Tennessee has a fever. Last night when he woke up and hollered for two hours, I had an inkling that there would be a fever in my future. While I carried him around the house singing "Row row row your boat" gently down the stream to him until he calmed enough to get back to sleep, I felt the Fever Fairy whisper past my ear. That Fever Fairy is a total cow. I think she is pissed that her blond cousin got the tooth gig.
My little buddy flopped and moaned around all morning, severely testing my temper and threatening my Most Patient and Lovely Mother Ever crown. The cat made him mad, his pretzels made him mad. Then he wanted to be carried, and I didn't carry him right. Much flopping over backwards and squealing in rage. He hated his lunch. He resentfully took his nap. After a moan and whimper filled three hour nap he woke up all soft cheeked and hot as can be.
I carried him around for a while, talking him into little sips of water and petting his head. He really looked miserable, so I gave him the tiniest dropper of Motrin for babies. Then I told him that I had to cut up a chicken. He sat down on the floor next to my feet and moaned to himself. While I split up the bird, he lay down with his cheek against the cold ugly circa 1976-ish linoleum and panted a little. I hustled the chicken into the oven and decided that Tennessee and I needed some sofa therapy. I fetched him and icy cold beverage and we headed for the tv and the oddness that is 30 Minute Meal with Rachael Ray. He watched her make flank steak pinwheels until his ibuprofen kicked in and he passed out.
Now I am thinking about tomorrow. Will there be more fever? Will his sister get it too? I really hope that the Throw up Fairy keeps her distance.