Rough Weekend

It's been a rough couple of days for my little boy. 

Friday, we went to the aquarium where he fell on the pavement, resulting in popped blood vessels and a bump on his forehead and scratches on his nose and cheeks. 

Saturday was a trip to the park with him and the dog. Before we even get in the car, he manages to run into the leash and get rope-burn on his neck. 

After we get home, I go outside to do some work in the yard and Connor keeps me company. He falls into the ditch we have next to the patio and cuts his hand. Then he falls on the cement patio and scrapes his ankle. 

That's a total of 5 injuries in 24 hours. They're all minor and are simply because he likes to run and not pay attention to where he's going. 

And then this morning he wakes up, and after having a half-glass of milk, proceeds to throw it all back up. All over the couch, himself and then me (including some in my hair) as I'm trying to carry him to the bathroom. So I clean us both up, and the couch, call the hubby to let him know what's going on, throw the blanket and towel used in clean-up into the washer and sit down with my sick boy. When Matt got home, Connor fell asleep so I went to take a shower. Halfway through that, he pukes again. He is now asleep with his head in my lap with hopefully the last of it out of his system. 

He doesn't have a fever, so I assume it's just a stomach bug. But I hate when he's sick. The injuries I'm used to. This is the boy who fractured his wrist when he was just 16 months old. He always rebounds quickly. But when he's sick, he's just so helpless. I wish I could take it away but instead I'll simply spend the day cuddling with him on the couch, comforting him as best I can.