We arrived at Applebee's and waited approximately twenty minutes for a table. The kind waitress put Jentry's order in right away and her food was there in no time. She took about four bites of her corn dog and said, "Mom, my tummy hurts. I think I need to go to the bathroom." I lead her through the crowded restaurant to the bathroom, which was unfortunately located on the other side of the building from our table. She did her business and we headed back to our seats. Nathan and I were still patiently waiting for our food while Jentry took a few more bites. She then turned to me with a look of despair and said, "Mom, I think I'm going to throw-up." I rushed her back through the crowded restaurant to the bathroom. When we got into the stall she quickly tore off her shirt and hugged the toilet. I anxiously waited for the worse and rubbed her little, bare back. After ten minutes of nothing, I asked her if she wanted to go home. She replied as if I had just asked an absolutely insane question, "No, I can't leave the bathroom!" After several minutes of me trying to convince her that she could make it outside, she finally agreed and put her shirt back on. I swooped her up into my arms and made a mad dash for the front door. As I passed by our table, I grabbed our coats and told Nathan to meet us outside.
Just outside the main entrance to Applebee's my poor little girl was bent over with her hands on her knees and certain that she was not going to make it. I was trying to get a coat on her and told her we needed to walk to the car. She began to yell, "Mom, call 911, call them now! I can't ride in a car, mom, I need an ambulance!" I could not help but laugh at her dramatic request. Maybe the fire safety week had soaked in a little too much with this preschooler.
I was still waiting for the worst, but since nothing seemed to be happening I got her talked into getting into the car. I found some plastic bags in the back and without having to explain she immediately held them to her mouth. Nathan arrived with my food in a to-go box and I climbed in the back seat with my sick, little girl. I asked her if she thought she would be OK in the car for awhile if I ran into Walgreens to at least get my pictures developed. After all, we had gone out of our way to get the camera and I didn't want our trip to be a complete waste of time. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "No, I need to go home."
On the drive home, she asked me, "When am I going to feel better?" I kept reassuring her that she was going to be fine. She then said, "I wish dad was here, because he had some medicine last time I got sick." I quickly remembered that she had gotten sick and actually threw-up at her dad's house the previous weekend. No wonder she was so terrified of being sick again! So to appease my patient, I called her dad and asked him what medicine he had given her before. Because she had run a fever, he had given her Tylenol, however Jentry just did not understand that Tylenol would not help her turning tummy. I called my Pharmacist sister to ask her if a four-year-old could take a Tums, because I was fairly certain that she just had a severe case of gas. Aunt Kelly said Jentry could have a half tablet of Tums. Whether or not it really helped her stomach pains or simply worked as a placebo drug we may never know.
As soon as Jentry was home and in bed, she was perfectly fine. She even went to the gym and worked out with me later that evening. What a little stinker. For several days, she tried to gain more extra attention by telling us that her tummy still hurts, but her behavior has been proving otherwise. However, I have been allowing her to have a "tongues" once a day just for good measure.
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