You have to finish your chocolate milk before you have your shake

The title sentence, spoken yesterday by Elise to Andrew in her best, caring-Mom voice, encapsulated just how much fun this week has been. HFMD, described in the previous post, turned Andrew into a wailing, snot-drenched knot of misery this week. Starting Monday, he couldn’t eat much and he didn’t sleep for more than 60 minutes at a time. Of course, neither did we.
In context, the directive makes sense. We use chocolate milk as the masking agent for Tylenol, and a milkshake was an expedient choice for getting som calories into him. He turned the corner today and was able to play a little bit with Grandma and Grandpa. As I write this he’s snoozing comfortably. Maggie has not exhibited any symptoms yet, and we desperately hope it stays that way.