The middles are sick. They have both had a fever this week.
Sick kids are no fun, but I have been able to give extra hugs and kisses on the head...and make tea. As medicine kicks in, the boys find games to play and toys to drag amongst the rooms I've been cleaning, sanitizing.
Today, it was just the little middle and me. His fever was 101.7 at its worst, so he slept on and off for an hour in the mornging and a couple of hours in the afternoon.
I was upstairs folding some laundry and listening to some great 80s country when he came up to tell me he was feeling better. "Good! That TV show and rest must have done the trick!" I was hoping that he felt better than he looked, droopy, dark eyes in a pale face. He drug his blanket behind him, reminding us both of Linus. He smiled when I mentioned it.
"Do you want to play a game?" he asked with his new found energy.
"Sure, what do you want to play? Just a minute while I finish this basket. It's mostly yours anyway. We'll have to put it away when we are done playing or your stacks are sure to fall over, they're so tall." I only had some socks and a few more t-shirts to fold.
When I stepped from the laundry into my bedroom, it had to have been 5 minutes at the most, I found him bundled in his blanket, asleep on my bed. Poor fella. I had to smile, and I had to take a picture. It was the sweetest.
I sent the picture to my husband with the caption, "He said he was feeling better and wanted to play a game."
My husband replied, "Seems about right"