For once, there is a legitimate reason to be pitiful. Connor woke up yesterday not feeling well. He was slow to come downstairs, which isn't alarming in and of itself. Often, once he goes downstairs and sees that no one else is up, he will go back to his room and read books on his bed until the rest of us are awake.
But he wasn't in his room, he was just sitting on the couch staring at nothing, curled up onto one of the pillows. We assumed he was tired. Then he requested breakfast and milk, which he took one look at and refused. Mommy was not impressed at all. After not eating the breakfast he had just asked for and that I had just fixed, he sat down on the couch and started complaining about being cold, even though the temperature inside was inching up toward eighty (and time to turn the air back on).
At this point, despite the signs, Mommy still didn't think much about it. In fact, she rather harshly told him if he was cold then the best place for him to be was under the covers in his bed upstairs. To my surprise, he did just that. And was asleep within minutes, shivering under the covers (which I noticed after it finally occurred to me that he was probably sick and I went back upstairs to check on him).
Poor little man. And poor parents. We were supposed to have a night out last night, thanks to Grammy and Pappy who had offered to come over and watch the boys. We decided that probably wasn't a good idea, as we didn't want to risk getting anyone else sick if we could help it. And that turned out to be a very good call on our part. Little man decided to throw up on Mommy and the couch shortly thereafter.
Today is not much better. He's been adamant about staying downstairs, despite nodding off frequently during the animated movies we've been watching. We took his temperature, which gave us the sad face reading of 100.8. He's hot to the touch and shivering under a fleece blanket in a warm house. He's had some Children's Motrin, which I'm hoping doesn't have the same fate as yesterdays attempt at Tylenol (you know, right before he threw up).
Right now, he's sipping Sprite from a sippy cup and eating a few club crackers while watching The Jungle Book, when his brothers will leave him in peace. And that's not very often. For some reason, Daddy got one of Sawyer's old Lightning McQueen sippy cups out for the Sprite this morning. And guess who's been trying to steal it ever since. He actually managed to get it once, during one of Connor's nodding sessions, before I could stop him. Mommy is really hoping that whatever Connor has is not contagious, because I'm pretty sure Sawyer took a big drink from that cup.
That's certainly all I need. Happy almost Mother's Day, indeed.