Leo has diarrhea. Iza had it last week. It is officially a bug. It is the real poopy deal. I thought I had seen diarrhea before with Izabella. Oh, no. Now I know. We have been eating the BRATY diet for too long--bananas, rice, applesauce, toast, and yogurt.
He also has the front four upper teeth erupting.
And then.
He face-planted on concrete. The blood, the tears.
A cool, wet cloth. A bit of nursing. Five minutes. He was over it. Me. Not yet.
The diarrhea? The good thing(s) about it:
1. I can finally spell diarrhea without resorting to using "die-uh-ree-uh."
2. White rice = really good, damn. Not sure I'll look at brown rice quite the same for a while.
In other news, Leo managed a bright spot on the day he turned 11-months-old: he climbed the stairs! It is the closest he has come to crawling. This one is a runner. Already I am below my pre-first-pregnancy weight (despite a diet that includes entire cartons of ice-cream and no official work-out program), this kid and his sister are going to turn me into a regular waif. Best diet ever: two toddlers.
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