And now a speech from our valetudinarian
Last night before bed Noah was insistent in his particularly high pitched and nasally five-and-a-half year old insisting way that I take his temperature. I pooh-poohed this idea, mainly because I had already performed the incredibly reliable and scientific Maternal Wet Kiss To The Forehead test and had declared him cool as a cucumber in a refrigerator crisper drawer. He also complained of an upset stomach, but I thought maybe this was being used as a ploy to stay up later, or get a deliciously forbidden bedtime snack. L fished out some sort of stale cracker from the pantry and we tucked him in and congratulated ourselves on once again staying two steps ahead of the Bedtime Bamboozler.
He woke us up at 4am, hot as the surface of the sun, of course.
So there are three of us home today, hanging out and watching the tube, snacking on cheese and crackers and puttering around in pjs. It’s amazing how much more work it feels like when there are two kids in the house instead of one, even when one of the kids is old enough to use the bathroom and feed himself and doesn’t even really move from his dinosaur pillowed spot on the corner of the couch. He seems to feel a whole lot better this afternoon than he did this morning, and in fact, felt well enough to participate in a brief discussion about his thoughts on the levels of not feeling good:
I underplayed my appreciation for his current level of unwellness in that video, by the way. Let’s keep those hands as close together as possible, shall we? Yes, let’s. Here’s hoping this is only a temporary lie-about for the Noh-ster, and that tomorrow he’ll be back to his Kindergartenly ways.
And in case you were wondering, Rosie appears to be doing just fine.