I liked him better sick

Biscuit has a sinus infection. We saw the doctor this morning after he woke up with a fever.

Jeff, Biscuit and I all had colds about a month ago. They ran their course and went away, all except for Biscuit's cough. It's not a really bad cough, but every once in a while, it's bad enough to wake him up at night.

He has allergy issues (as most people around here do), so we give him a dose of allergy medicine every night. That has helped, but his cough has just lingered. Add to that the nasty nose stuff. It's not a runny nose, but Biscuit sounds congested all the time. His voice sounds like a nasally version of his normal voice. And we do manage to get some pretty gross stuff out of his nose every once in a while.

But when he woke up with a fever this morning, I figured I better take him on to the doctor. She confirmed my guess that it is a sinus infection and prescribed an antibiotic for him. He doesn't mind taking medicine, so I'm glad it'll be that simple to finally getting rid of this stuff.

I always wondered how it seemed that my Mama would know I was sick before I realized I was sick. But now that I'm a mama, I get it.

Last night, Biscuit was sitting on the couch, and I could just tell he wasn't feeling well. Then he asked if he could lay on my shoulder.

I love it when Biscuit lays on my shoulder or when he wants to snuggle, but at his age, he only wants to do that when he's upset or sick.

He laid on my shoulder and I covered him with a blanket. He stayed there for about 45 minutes until I realized he was asleep (and until I realized my arm was going to sleep). Biscuit weighs 30 1/2 pounds now. He's still a lightweight compared to other kids his age, but when you're trying to stand up with him on your shoulder, trying not to wake him up, trying not to trip over the blanket and trying not to drop him out of your arm that's asleep, that 30 pounds can seem like 150.

About 5:30 a.m., Biscuit woke up and yelled for me.

"MOM!" Biscuit hollered.

"WHAT, BABY?" I answered back.

"THE SPIDERS ARE ON THE WAY, MOM!" he yelled back.

"NO, THEY'RE NOT. IT'S JUST A DREAM!" I hollered back to him.

"Oh, okay," Biscuit said quietly. Then he went back to sleep. I'm guessing the fever might have brought that on.

When Jeff brought Biscuit downstairs this morning, I looked at his face and knew he was feverish. His skin was flush, and he just looked pitiful.

Jeff and I both needed to be at work today, so we were trying to figure out our plan while we got some breakfast into Biscuit. He asked for oatmeal and dry cereal. That's not a typical breakfast we'd give him, but since he was feeling bad, that's exactly what he got.

Jeff and I decided that we would split the work day in half. He would take the first half so I could take Biscuit to the doctor, and I would take the second half.

Jeff headed off to work, and I got myself then Biscuit ready. I went ahead and gave Biscuit a dose of children's ibuprofen, and he stretched out on my bed.

Biscuit and I headed out to see the doctor, and about 5 minutes into our trip, the ibuprofen kicked in. I guess it made him feel better because he suddenly turned into Mr. Chatterbox. He asked nonstop questions all the way to the doctor's office, then all the way to the pharmacy, then all the way home.

Biscuit: Mom, what are those guys doing over there?

Me: They're re-paving the road.

Biscuit: Why?

Me: Because the road was rough and re-paving will make it smoother.

Biscuit: What's re-paving, Mom?

Me: It's when they put more of that black stuff on the road.

Then we stopped at a redlight.

Biscuit: Why is that man carrying a suitcase, Mom?

Me: That's not a suitcase. It's a briefcase.

Biscuit: What's a briefcase, Mom?

Me: A briefcase holds papers for work.

Biscuit: Where does that man work, Mom?

Me: I don't know, Baby.

Biscuit: What's that building, Mom?

Me: That's the hospital.

Biscuit: Does that man work at the hospital, Mom?

Me: I don't know.

Biscuit: Is he a paramedic? Paramedics drive ambulances to the hospital. Does that man drive an ambulance, Mom?

Me: I don't think so. He's not wearing a uniform.

Biscuit: Do paramedics wear uniforms?

Me: Yes.

Biscuit: Why?

Me: So you know they're paramedics and not teachers or firefighters.

Biscuit: Firefighters wear uniforms, Mom.

Me: Yes, they do.

Biscuit: Why do firefighters wear uniforms?

Me: The same reason as paramedics. So you know who they are.

Biscuit: I like firefighters, Mom.

Me: I know you do.

Biscuit: Firefighters and paramedics are my favorite people.

Me: I thought Dad and I were your favorite people.

Biscuit: Yeah. Firefighters, paramedics and you and Dad are my favorite people.

Then we were at the doctor's office.

These questions continued the whole time we were at the doctor's office. He asked the doctor if she was going to listen to his heart and look in his ears and look in his nose and look in his mouth.

After his appointment, the nurse offered him a sticker. It had his favorite race car character on it. Then he proceeded to tell her that the race car is his favorite because it's red, and red is his favorite color, and the race car has a friend who is a tow truck. And the tow truck is brown, but he likes it anyway.

We got to the drivethrough at the drugstore and the questions continued. We got home and the questions continued.

I could not wait until 1 p.m. when I could put him down for a nap.

He went right to sleep. And for the first time in hours, it was quiet.

Jeff finally got home, and I said to him, "Is it terrible to admit that our sweet son's voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard to me today?"

"What do you mean? It's really quiet in here." Jeff said with a grin.

Next time, I'm taking the afternoon sick-kid shift, starting with naptime!