Bucket finally came home on Wednesday. I deliberately did not make it clear to Llama that he would be picking her up, because I didn't want her to be crying for him all day. (And superstitiously, I didn't want to be a jinx and make something happen.)
From what he said, she was so excited when he arrived that she could not stop running in circles and squealing. I don't have the right words, but I got a little teary when he told me that. She missed him so much and is so happy that he's home.
That said, though, a sick girl wants her mama. And on Friday afternoon of my much-anticipated weekend of having a second parent with whom to share all the fun and work, daycare called me and said, "Heather, can you come get Llama? She just threw up. A lot." In the 10 minutes between when they called me and when I arrived (it is only a few buildings away), she had thrown up again. And we made it almost all the way home before she threw up in her carseat. The vomit comet kept rocketing around until late yesterday morning, when my poor Llama passed out on top of me in what was (for me) a very uncomfortable position. But I was afraid to move because I didn't want to wake her or make her puke on me again, so I just laid in this contorted, hunched position for two hours in the corner of the couch.
Until Bucket walked in the door (very quietly) and Llama's Daddy radar went off and she popped up. I was both grateful and irritated. Grateful because God, thank you that I can move now. And irritated because she was finally effing sleeping and then she was not.
But we went to Target to drop $200 on random household items and diapers and all was well.