My Little Sickie... July 12, 2008

My poor little Noah, you've been so sick the past two days.  It makes me so grateful for doctors and medicine.  We think you've had pneumonia or croup.  It's such a strange time of year for you to get sick like this and it came on so suddenly, that it really took me by surprise.  You've only been this sick one other time in your life, and maybe not even then.  You've been running a fever, you have a cough that sounds like a dog, and every time you cough, you cry because it hurts so bad.  All you want to do is have me hold you...We've even been sleeping together on the floor of your room at night.  It's been a long couple of days and I'm so hoping you feel all better soon.

3 cute stories from this:

We took you to the Dr. and they did an x-ray of your chest.  It was basically impossible for you to hold still like they needed to, so we ended up having to take them twice.  They gave us the extra one to take home as a souvenir, so we have a life sized x-ray of your little torso hanging up on the fridge.  You tell us it's a picture of dinosaur bones.

The first night you were sick I was lying next to you on our make-shift bed on your floor.  We were lying quietly face to face staring in each others eyes for a minute and you so sweetly said, "You pretty...".  It's so nice that you love me.  I'm so glad that God gave mothers the incredible gift to be able to comfort their little ones just by being close when nothing else can do the trick. 

Yesterday you felt a little better, well enough to get into a little of your normal mischief.  Somehow you got into a bottle of the liquid children's ibuprofen that we had been giving to you and drank some of it.  Luckily, whenever you do something you know you aren't supposed to be doing, you tell me you're doing it while you are doing it.  I came upstairs to see what you were doing, saw you drinking it, and then you dumped the rest of the almost full bottle on the carpet.  Ughh...Daddy and I tag teamed cleaning you and the carpet up and then I talked to you while he called poison control.  (Luckily we found out that you weren't going to be hurt by it unless you had drunken the entire bottle.)  I told you that I was worried about you and that it's not good to drink that because it's medicine.  You thought I was mainly upset because you dumped it on the carpet.  I told you that I was worried because you drank it.  You looked at me with sad puppy dog eyes and said in explanation, "It yummy mama.".  Darn medicine makers...why do they have to make it taste so good?