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!