Sick Day

Jamie came home from school early yesterday with a slight fever.  After not napping and driving me crazy all afternoon, he rallied, so we got on with our regularly-scheduled evening plans. 

 

Life would be easier if he were the least bit interested in electronic babysitters, but he’d rather jump all over me, have stories read to him, or play with his trains, in the water table, or under his bed.  All of which would be totally fine, better than fine (since we are a pretty low screen-time household anyway) (like two hours a week low), if he would only be quiet for more than ten minutes at a time and let his largely pregnant mama nap. 

 

It’s like he just doesn’t understand how to be sick.  He should be cuddling me on the couch for the entire afternoon, not dancing on my legs, screaming at the top of his lungs, and then breaking down into hysterics because his throat hurts when he sings.

 

That’s more like it.

 

His throat hurts.  That’s the extent of his illness.  However, that minor issue kept him, and all of us, from sleeping well last night.  I can no longer maneuver myself into the bottom bunk, so Tony spent the night there with Jamie.  Jamie woke up crying several times, only to refuse both Tylenol and water, two things that would have alleviated his misery.  You try reasoning with an almost-three-year-old at 2 am.  Impossible.

 

The agony has continued through this morning, though with the help of small doses of ibuprofen and acetaminophen, Jamie is as rambunctious as ever.  He just can’t eat or drink without screaming.

 

So he’s at work with me.  At some point, he decided to take off all his clothing, so he’s running around my office in his underwear (real professional, this kid).  I made the ill-advised decision to wear white pants and a light blue shirt today, both of which are now grubby beyond belief. 

 

Dance party!

 

We’re throwing in the towel.  It’s nearly eleven o’clock, I’m hungry, and I’m not getting any work done.  I guess his sick day is my sick day.  Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be lucky and he’ll nap this afternoon, thus enabling my own nap.  Cross your fingers!