I knew something was brewing when I picked baby Dylan up from my mom's house after work yesterday. He looked like a rosy cheeked cherub angel with a runny nose. He was getting sick. Luckily I stashed a supply of breast-milk away in the freezer before I quit nursing months back for this exact reason. I broke into my milk bank and gave him some yum-yum in hopes it would boost his immune system before the germs took over. Carrots, cuddles, suctioning, and a couple hours later he was put down for the night. I turned up the volume on his monitor and went to bed too, until 1:15 in the morning when my little big boy woke up to play. Yeah, play.
There was laughing and grunting, jumping and then silence. Thank God the secret night life of Dylan didn’t involve screaming. When I walked into his room this morning I found him lounging on his back in the corner of the crib like a tiny man testing out a lazy boy. And though I realize he isn’t feeling great, that his body is burning up, and he’s physically exhausted, I can’t help but think he is such a cute little sicky. My little daddy’s boy finally needs (and more importantly wants) mommy! And before a pack of wild super mom's attack me for implying that I enjoy my son in his sickly state, just look at that face!