We made it back from London. The doctors helped us to figure out what was going on, why it was happening, how long it would take to get better and what we should do to help that process. And, we ruled out various nefarious causes, much to my relief.
While in London, K caught a stomach virus (probably at one of our doctor visits). He was vomiting for 3 days and nights. So, we spent the majority of our London visit with his medical appointments and then the rest in the apartment. After running out of plastic bags, we decided to use one of the apartment's mixing bowls as a vomit bowl. We did put in the dishwasher when we left, but it makes you think twice about using apartment provided dishes, doesn't it.
All week, K had been saying how much he missed his brother and wanted to go home. And, we were almost not allowed to come home because of K's illness. Luckily, he was physically symptom free for 20 hours, so they let us go. Woohoo.
Still feeling a bit on the cranky side (K, well me too I must admit), we made our way to the airport. While having a very light breakfast, K started saying he didn't want to get on the plane because it would take us to London. He insisted the only way to get home was to drive. Since driving to Bulgaria was not a realistic option for us, I tried explaining to him that we are currently in London, so why would the plane take us there. Reasoning with a cranky 4-year-old doesn't really work. So, I proceed to tell him, if he wants to go home, we will get on the plane. He wouldn't have it and let me tell you it was not a pretty sight.
As we made our way out of the restaurant, much to the happiness of the other patrons, K continued his fit. Again, I told him the plane would take us home, not to London. Now, there is something you have to understand about K. . .if he doesn't like what you are saying to him, he will start in with, "you're not my friend" or "you're not my brother" or "you're not my dad" or "you're not my mom." Well, I guess he didn't like that I was insisting we were going to get on that plane. So, in the middle of the airport, he's crying and yelling "you're not my mom, you're not my mom." I'm just glad we didn't get pulled aside by security asking us what the heck was going on. Then again, maybe I should be a little worried that nobody intervened. Hmmm???? After his latest "you're not my mom," he threw off his favorite Thomas the Tank Engine boots. I took them away from him and told him he could only have them back if he behaved. He sat in his stroller, put his boots back on, and was quiet as we made our way to the plane. When we get to the plane, he said, "oh, this is the plane to Sofia, but none of the other planes here go home." Yes, he gets it. Phew, crisis averted. I'm just so glad I didn't have to find out how him yelling "you're not my mom" as we boarded the plane would have gone over.
I can only imagine the huge laugh my parents are having up in heaven over this one. Yes, ok, my kids are just like me, happy now. ;)