3B has been sick since Monday. At first we thought maybe he partied a little too hearty at the Super Bowl party we went to, but this seems to be a bona fide virus of the nasty sort, complete with high fever, lethargy, aches, pains and glassy eyes.
Today, Mama had meetings in the office that she couldn’t miss, so I stayed home with 3B. Sadly, it was a pretty relaxing day because it took all of his energy just to sit around and watch videos. Actually, we did play zoom-zoom cars and (doll)house for a short time this morning, but he was still ready for a nap at 11. He normally goes down at about 1.
Because I didn’t want him to go down to early and leave us with the longest achy afternoon ever, I strung him along until noon, mostly by reading to him. It worked because that was all that he had the energy for and even on a good day, he’s willing to sit through a 60+ page book like Pickles the (Gay) Fire Cat. So we read that and Green Eggs and Ham before he collapsed into his crib. He normally takes about 45 minutes after we leave his room to fall asleep. Today, he fell asleep while I was singing Hush Little Baby to him while stroking his hair.
That’s a first.
But it’s been a week of firsts. This weekend we went to, as 3B says, “a different playground.” We’ve been there before, but apparently not regularly enough. Because it was in close proximity to a bagel shop and Mama had a massive craving for a bagel sandwich, we told 3B that we’d go there after the playground. Apparently, he believed that we’d walk there because when we left the playground, he walked right past our car and headed into Old Town, as if he’d walk all the way to D.C., if that’s where the shop was. We finally convinced him to let us drive a little closer by telling him that he’d still get to walk there–we weren’t about to discourage his preference for walking over carrying.
Nevertheless, on our way from the reparked car to the bagel shop, we got our first, “Are we there yet?” To which I believe Mama said, “No. Hurry up, you two.” Just kidding. I couldn’t hear what she said, since she walking away a block ahead of us while we listened to the half-hearted trumpet busker, who 3B would have gone home with if I hadn’t peeled him away.
The other two firsts were both related to this damn virus. Last night, 3B cried out in his sleep at about 4 a.m.–the insomniac hour…you know, just close enough to the waking hour that you never really get back to sleep. I can’t remember what he wanted, but he specifically requested me, so Mama and I were both in there, giving him another dose of Motrin, some water and singing to him. He was just about asleep when we left, but when he heard the door latch behind us, he cried out loud enough to wake the neighbors, “Hey! Don’t go out without me! I’m upset now!”
Mama and I laughed loud enough to wake the neighbors.
And then today, I heard words come out of my son’s mouth that I’ve never heard from him before. I heard them several times, and each time I heard them and looked into his glassy eyes, these words deflated me just a little.
This from a boy whose normal daily activity level makes a pachinko ball in a machine tumbling down a staircase during an earthquake look stationary in comparison: “I’m tired. I need to rest.”