Rough Couple o Days

In what I am sure is an omen of many a future phone call to Dad's workplace say in, oh, about 10 years, The Boy was sent home from school yesterday. No, he was not cuttin' up in class, but he did have a fever, his first. Poor little Fletch. He did not seem especially worse for wear last night, though he did awaken a couple times crying in the night. Rick's Wife stayed at home with The Boy today, so instead of receiving one phone call from school, I received 17 from Rick's Wife. That poor kid was wearing himself out, and like any good son of mine, was determined to make those around him equally as miserable. Poor Jen.

I left work a bit early, thinking -- hey, I have broadband. I'll get home, provide a little moral support, and get some work done.

Not so much.

In the vernacular of the common geek: The Boy's crying is a, what's the word? Oh yes: "non-maskable interrupt." That is geek-speak for "I'm miserable, and you must attend to me NOW!"

"I'm hot. I'm cold. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm tired of being tired. Daddy, when are you going to make this better? Fetch my fever reducer. How is the Lobster Thermadore? (I recommend it.) Then I'll have two, and put it on Mr. Underwood's tab."

Finally, he just got crazy cranky. A cool bath settled him down, and thankfully he is now sleeping in Rick's Wife's arms. She just whispered to me that she is not going to take him to his room yet, rather she intends to let him sleep in her arms. Generally, I would object, but if you could just see how peaceful he is right now, and how absolutely wrecked he has looked to me since I've come home today. I think I'll issue a pass, just this once.

Here's to hoping he can get some sleep. And that the dang fever goes away.