Sick kids, sick kids, sick kids. How I long for the days of healthy kids–those nostalgic days of sleeping and happiness, rather than sleeplessness and grumping.
Our youngest has been down with a vile cold for the past four days, up enough times a night to bring back dread reminders of the Dark Days, when he was an unsleeping baby…and then an unsleeping toddler. Snot running in green rivers down his face, cough wracking his little body, and enough irritability that he screams anytime he doesn’t get his way. What’s not to love?
In the quiet moments, it’s not so bad. Lots of snuggles, cuddles, and hugs. Calls for more stories, and our eldest, who seems to have ridden to rough edge between sick and well the whole time, asking to fall asleep in our bed, instead of his own, because then he can pretend we’re there beside him, and he won’t be scared of that one scene in that movie he watched last week… Yeah, there are moments.
And then the screaming begins again.