Yesterday, Grant was sick. That morning I tried valiantly to get him moving to make sure we got out the door in time to take him to school and me to Bible Study. I reminded him a million times to put on his pants. He kept complaining that they would be too cold. (Does anyone else get that from their kids? Shesh! I don't have time to warm them in the drier!) So, finally, in a fit of frustration, I walked over to him and yanked his pajama pants off. His legs were burning up! Yep. He had a fever. Cole and I were both ready to walk out the door, and here is Grant with a fever. ARGH.
So, we stayed home. Grant was Mr. Puny laying on the couch until I moved him to my bedroom. I had to lock the door from the inside to keep little brother away. Grant just wanted everyone to leave him alone. No babying that guy! So, we left him alone and he slept on and off from about 2:00 to 7:30pm. Then, he was awake! Wide awake. He felt "much better" and just wanted to play Legos with Daddy. He stayed up WAY too late (especially for a kid who was sick that day). I finally put him in bed around 10:30, but he was just NOT tired. Whatever. It was time for bed, right. He could count sheep.
So, at about 11:45, I'm sleeping soundly when someone squeezes my arm. I crack my eye open and yelp! (It always freaks me out when someone is RIGHT in my face when I wake up.) Grant got scared (nevermind the fact that he has angels with sharp swords stationed around his room to protect him) and wants to sleep with us. In my exhaustion, I said words that I would come to regret: "You can't sleep in my bed, but you can sleep on the floor right here." What was I thinking?
Grant spent LITERALLY (and I don't use that term loosely) ten minutes attempting to spread out his blankets on the floor next to my bed. He doesn't like them wrinkled and he likes to have a "warm blanket" (fleece) under him and on top of him. OCD? Naw. Finally, he whispered something about me helping him. Keep in mind that I am warm, comfortable and sleeping like a rock. My body felt nice and heavy and primed for a great sleep. However, my son needs help, so I whine a bit and help him spread his blankets. "Now, don't wake me up!"
He woke me up again. He wasn't comfortable or he was cold or whatever. He decided to go back to his own bed and needed me to walk him across the house (over freezing cold floors) to tuck him into his bed (spreading blankets, etc.). I went, I tucked. I kissed, I prayed AGAIN. I went back to my warm bed. Two minutes later I heard him SOBBING as loud as a 4 year old can possibly sob. I was torn. Do I let him continue sobbing and wear himself out, or do I go stop this nonsense so he doesn't wake up his brother? (Sigh) I went. Grant was upset because he was COLD and wanted the fleece blanket directly on top of him, then his thick comforter, then the quilt. OCD? Hmm. Grrr. I gave him a talking to about obnoxious behavior, grumpy mommies who don't get any sleep, consequences if he wakes me up again . . . all that. You should have seen his wide eyes. (I apologized for the rant this morning, it was THAT bad.)
SO, anyway, he woke up this morning feeling perky. Hoping that today would be a Katie day since she couldn't come over yesterday because he was sick. He was excited to go to school. He dressed himself without any prompting (in cold jeans). He was ready to go to school. Mitch dropped him off and one of his teachers tells Mitch that Grant doesn't look very good. Mitch explained that he says he feels great, he's ready for the day and he doesn't have a fever. He might just look tired from the night before.
Mitch got a call from the preschool administrator telling us that Grant needs to be picked up because he is not feeling well. The mommy guilt immediately sets in. Am I SURE he didn't have a fever? How many times did I ask him if he felt better? Was there every any hesitation in his voice? Yikes! Mitch picked up Grant while I picked up Katie and we met back at home. There is my son, sitting on the couch eating an apple, looking just as perky as ever.
Mitch told me that Grant was saying, "Maybe I need to go to the doctor" and "I don't look so good," on the way home. Hmm. We never take our kids to the doctor when they are sick, so Grant certainly did not hear that from us. I don't think he would get the idea of going to the doctor on his own. Do ya think he heard that from his teachers and the power of suggestion worked it's magic and became a self-fulfilling prophecy? We just looked at each other and rolled our eyes.
Grant ate a huge lunch, is asking for a snack, does not have a fever, and is coloring pictures with Katie. Looks like he forgot all about feeling sick.
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