I’m on the sofa, listening to the Foo Fighters (or as we like to call them, The Footers), waiting for the wee-er one to fall asleep. The wee one is in the shower with his daddy, fighting off a 102 degree temp.
It’s a quiet moment for me, at the end of a kind of crazy day. The day could have certainly been worse, but it’s nice to sit here. Initially, i thought I’d do some writing… finally finish up The Book That Will Never Stop Sucking. But I don’t want to have to use my brain. Just some mindless writing sounds like fun, and so, thank you Blog.
Just a little while ago I administered some Tylenol to the wee one, and his hand shook as he took the measuring spoon from me. His pale face, his burning cheek, that shaky hand… it made me teary. He was so full of energy this afternoon and then BAM, he fell asleep at 4, woke up at 5 with a burning temp, and all that energy was just sucked right out of him.
We’re so lucky that he isn’t a sickly kid. I can count on one hand the number of times he’s truly been sick enough to not want to leave the couch or his bed. So the fact that he turned down Jello and curled up on my lap when I sat next to him on the sofa tells me he’s feeling pretty darn shitty right now. Poor guy.
Anybody watch Farscape? You know how Zhaan can channel the pain of another living being, to help them survive? I wish I could do the Zhaan thing – put my hand on his fiery forehead and suck that shitty feeling right out of him. Even if I have to be a bald, blue alien to do it.
I guess now we wait. We see how he does tonight and how he feels in the morning. I say a little prayer that the rest of us somehow miraculously avoid falling ill. I have a cookie. I go to bed.