Becks was up at 4am crying loudly about the travesty of running a 102 degree fever. I went bounding up the stairs, an eyedropper full of tylenol in hand, to battle this nasty bug. He was so hot and upset and pitiful looking. I brought him downstairs where we snuggled on him and offered him juice. I cranked out some quick lesson plans and called in for the day. I hate when he's at this age and can't communicate just how bad he feels. But I could tell he wasn't feeling good at all.
So, I'm home today. With a feverish baby. And no furniture which to snuggle upon.
Fortunately, the tylenol/motrin combo is doing its job and Becks is feeling better for the moment, though that fever hasn't broken yet. He managed to slurp some oatmeal and play with the sander. We've already cancelled our girlfriend's dinner tonight, and I wonder if the impending snowstorm of doom will delay our hardwood plans too. B's determined, so we'll see.
Thanks for your well wishes for my boy!