The kids have all passed around a little bug recently, thankfully the symptoms are only a fever and total exhaustion.
Daniel was especially pathetic, wanting to be held basically every moment. Finally I was forced to put him down and run around the house to get a few things done. The whole time I could hear the weepy drone of "hoooolllld" trailing behind me, in and out of rooms. But the best part was when I realized this sweet sick baby was gathering up any item remotely significant to him as we went. In this picture he has two "night-nights," his blanket, his dog and what every sick kid needs, a Sonic toy flashlight.
Finally I put him on the couch while I folded laundry, where he, with all his comfort items, fell asleep.
Peter also suffered a visit from the bug (on pumpkin carving day, which, consequently, made the day much easier). Since having been allowed excessive comforting and midnight cuddles, he is determined every ache and pain constitutes another near fatal illness. Last night he discovered a mild cough and I think, secretly, an attack of the "I don't want to sleep" bug, for which he was certain some medicine, "like maybe Tylenol or benadryl" was necessary. Feeling especially sensitive to the ailing, after our current run of disease in the house, I decided to humor him and even considered accepting his request if he could conjure up a suitable affliction. But after rejecting his suggestion to use benadryl for his aching foot, and Tylenol for his watery eyes, he was forced in desperation to declare, in a very matter of fact voice, "mommy, there is something somewhere in my body that is hurting and I need that medicine in the cabinet." With a stifled laugh, I told him that wasn't good enough, and he was left to deal with his afflictions using the tried and true home remedies of dark, quiet and intimidating parental threats.
Digging up dinosaur fossils.
Watching the balls drop,
and the eyelids.
Peter also wanted a lot of teeth on his pumpkin, "like this."
