For the second time in as many weeks, I once again found myself in a darkened room rocking a sick child, too pitiful for words, to sleep. Sawyer is this week's victim, his immune system unable to withstand the cold/flu that we have been passing around our house like candy. It was almost expected, living in as close proximity as he does to Alexander, the most recently recovered victim.
Of course, they are twin brothers, so perhaps they had to share this too. You know, like they share the same full-size bed, even though there are two in their room, and sippy cups, even though they know that the red one is Alexander's and the green one is Sawyer's (because they will actually reach for their cup in the morning when I'm holding both of the cups in my hands). But, anything is fair game if it's on the floor, right? Especially if it's juice. So, inevitably the germs have been shared too, and Sawyer is now the one not feeling well.
As a parent, there is nothing that makes you feel as helpless as a sick child - they just seem so defenseless and vulnerable. You just want to absorb all that hurt, so that they don't have to feel it. But life doesn't work that way.
And to be honest, we've been really lucky with our children. Other than the sniffles here and there, they've never really been sick. But still, even a bad cold seems awful when it's a two-year old who doesn't have a voice or words to explain what's wrong or what will make him feel better. Poor kid has a terrible fever - his skin is hot to the touch. Cherry Tylenol seems to help, but who knows how much. He still has cold chills that shake his little body (relatively speaking), and a runny nose that annoys him during the day and keeps him from sleeping at night. He's not eating, which isn't like him at all, and won't go near a glass of milk, which is saying a lot in our gallon-a-day household. And Sawyer is my clutcher, who loves to be held on a good day, but who grabs on for dear life when he's feeling the least bit off. Poor little man.
Here's hoping the cherry Tylenol works on the last victim, and that the cycle doesn't start all over again.
