Day Two of Bore Your Child At Home, wherein he is sick enough to not go to school, but well enough to get underfoot and drive you nuts at home.
The Unreliable Narrator has had a mystery fever that had him sweating and mumbling at night. I’d go to touch his forehead and a few inches away from his skin I could feel the heat radiating from him–his arms, his head, his torso. I’d have to dose him with tylenol so he could rest comfortably and to bring the fever down. (My overactive worried-mom imagination has him burning up valuable brain cells and emerging from this fever 20 IQ points lower. Either him, or me… dumber from lack of sleep.) I’d get cold wet towels and drape him with them.
At 4 am (of course) every morning, he’d have a bad episode, I’d give him a final dose of Tylenol for the night, and he’d sleep til 9:00 or 9:30 am.
But.
Then he ‘d wake up relatively refreshed, seemingly in good shape to go to school. I’d get him there, and he’d wilt.
So, here he is at home. I think he’s watched every single Thomas the Tank Engine video on YouTube that exists, including all the ones done by weird older people who set visuals from the episodes to songs like Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over.”
And he’ll alternately do something that drives me nuts then makes me laugh the next minute. Won’t eat a decent breakfast. Then, while walking with me hand in hand to the upstairs bathroom to move his bowels, he kicks an inflatable plastic beach ball in an especially cute way, and his delighted giggle is too infectious to resist.
Or one minute he’ll chase the cat, shooting her with imaginary Spiderman webs from his hands, making “pssssssssst psssssst” sounds she interprets as scolding-hissing, then the next minute he suddenly stops and begins weeping that he’s hot, “the fever’s baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack, I need a cold tooooooowwwwwwww-ellllllllllllllll!” Of course you’re hot. You’ve just worked yourself into a frenzy running around like a maniac.
It’s just too silly to be permanently exasperated, although it’s tempting.
ETA: I now pronounce him well enough to drive me BATSHIT INSANE. School for you tomorrow, cutie.
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