By the time we arrived back at our hotel on the eve of our last day in Disney (remember? magical-ish princess day?) the question of me catching Ephraim’s stomach bug was no longer an “if” but a “when”. I knew it was coming for me. And it was going to be ugly.
Now for a quick aside. I rarely get sick. In fact, I so rarely get sick that sometimes I long to be sick so I can have an excuse to lay in bed and watch Doomesday Preppers all day (don’t judge. I see you Miss I-Love-Sister-Wives).
But there are a few notable times that I’ve fallen gravely ill. The most unfortunate being the time I contracted a rather nasty strain of rotavirus upon returning home from the hospital, three days postpartum with Ephraim. Thank you again for that, Sarah. You haven’t had diarrhea until you’ve had postpartum diarrhea.
(Was that TMI? I’m so sorry. But trust me, it was worse for me.)
Skip ahead three years and I picked up what must have been that same nasty strain the day B-Ro turned three. I spent the entirety of the super hero birthday party that I’d carefully planned hugging the toilet and praying for a quick and easy death.
That was two years ago, and I don’t think I’ve been sick since (with the exception of a rather unfortunate evening at Amendment 21 last year but that was man woman made…)
So it should come as no surprise when I tell you that the eve of our last day in Disney was also the eve of my only son’s fifth birthday. And as the waves of nausea started to hit at about midnight I knew that I would once again be celebrating my boy’s birthday by becoming one with the porcelain.
Brent and the kids woke up at 7 after I’d had an on again, off again battle with the bug all night long. I knew I wasn’t heading to Magic Kingdom with my birthday boy, and I was devastated. By this point Brent was beginning to wonder if he too was coming down with something. But he swore it off and hauled both kiddos on to the park, donning his Superdad cape once again.
Then I settled in for a long miserable day of Doomesday Preppers.
After about an hour I decided I wasn’t going down without a fight. As I said on Facebook that morning, if I could push an 8 pound human being out of my body then I could surely power through this junk to spend the day with that birthday boy.
Which is how I ended up almost hurling on a Disney transit bus, the Disney ferry and in the line to get in. And this time I didn’t have ziplocs.
But I knew all was well when I found my way to Fantasyland and saw this rounding the corner…
Now that’s the stuff fantasies are truly made of. Can I get an amen from the married ladies in the audience?
Our first stop together was for lunch. Um, yum?
But I enjoyed watching B-Ro map out the rest of our day.
And I sure as heck enjoyed just being there with my littlest love.
And my middle-sized love.
After lunch the next stop was to cash in the boys’ fast pass for Splash Mountain. Sarah opted to just watch.
And I think it goes without saying that so did I.
Ephraim was gung-ho about the whole thing and I was thrilled to get an action shot as they came down the drop (it only took about 47 shots of strangers before I got one of my real boys)…
The extremely cropped close up of that shot looks like this…
which explains why B-Ro looked like this when we caught up with him after the ride…
Live and learn, buddy. Live and learn.
After Splash Mountain we caught the tail end of a little parade,
and then I made a beeline to the smoothie stand. Purees have never tasted so delicious.
In fact I was in such a state of smoothie nirvana that I curled up on a Magic Kingdom bench and fell asleep for the next 30 minutes while my little fam took off for another ride. True story. If Magic Kingdom gave out tickets for loitering I would most definitely have been fined.
As happy as I was that I was able to salvage some of the day with my etch-a-sketch choosing birthday boy,
I was even happier when to be heading back to the hotel that afternoon.
But I was happiest to know that in times like these, this guy’s always got my back.
I love you Superdad.