sick day

Dylan,

You're sick again.

It was predictable enough. Remember how all those kids were crying at school the other morning? It was pretty clear that at least two of them were too sick to belong there. And since one of them was your best bud Dylan J., the chance of you getting exposed was 100%. He was so wiped out and dripping with snot that he couldn't even screech a response when you screamed your hello.

You had a pretty bad last night yourself, coughing a lot and crying for a good while sometime between 2-3am. In the morning, your temperature measured 99.6 degrees and your eyes were glossy. I agreed to work from home the first half of the day and then let Mommy take over when she finished her half-shift at the hospital.

I didn't get any work done.

What I did get, though, was some pleasant time with you. You weren't much for eating, even though we tried three times. After a decent morning nap (that you were verrrry slow to come fully out of) you sat on my lap on the living room floor and watched Charlie Rose interview Jimmy Carter. It was special because you were so still and so content, enjoying the incomparable comfort and protection of a daddy's giant limbs wrapped all around you. When I rested my cheek and then the underside of my chin on the top of your head, you rotated your head slowly side to side for a while, not taking your eyes off the TV, exploring the sound and sensation of your thin blonde hair twisting into a mess.

After a while, you brightened up and we had a lot of fun laughing, chasing, and tickling before Mommy came home.

Dad