You’re not going to believe it, but sickness has once again darkened our door. Yes, with the arrival of summer vacation, we are all hacking, sniffling, sneezing and feverish, which puts a little crimp in our summer fun. But we’re trying not to let it keep us down, so yesterday, we trekked over to Blue Heaven (aka Chapel Hill) and picnicked over by the baseball stadium to get some peeks into the Tarheels vs. ECU Pirates regional playoff game and then stopped for some self-serve froyo on the way home. The Husband finally got to do something he’s been wanting to do (I mean except for actually go in to the game, but hey, we were close!), the kids had a blast and I felt like we were out and doing one of those things we pictured doing when we talked about moving down here. Picnicking in Chapel Hill. Sounds lovely doesn’t it?
All that excitement meant I had to put my usual “apoplexy” (how The Husband refers to it) about naps and schedules aside. Guess what? The Earth didn’t spin off its axis. The moon didn’t fall from the sky. Life went on. Though I don’t think it helped Hatchling #3’s budding illness. It was in full bloom later that night, complete with fever. So sometime around hour four (!!!!!) of trying to get him settled to sleep, I gave him some medicine, approximately half of which he spit back out in protest. I decided to bring him downstairs to clean him up and when he saw Gramps, Dada and his car ramp, he decided it was time to play. For a few brief minutes, he found out what life would have been like if he’d been H#1 instead of H#3. All eyes on him, applauding, ooohing and ahhing punctuated by laughs and clapping. All for him. Only him.
Then we went back for hour five of bedtime, and finally the medicine kicked in, his fever broke and he fell peacefully to sleep, memories of his solo performace fodder for his dreams.
