Our youngest son Colin has had quite the week. Monday the fever started, by Tuesday the fever was worse and an inspection of the back of his throat confirmed that I had passed on to him the strep throat that I had suffered through the week before. (Epic fail on my part. Kids are supposed to bring the germs home from school and pass them on to Mom, not the other way around. Ugh.) Thankfully, a call to our doctor was enough to get him a prescription for some antibiotics and I was confident by the next day he would be on the mend.
However, Wednesday produced a very unhappy little boy. His throat hurt. His head hurt. His teeth hurt. He had lost interest in all food, including the green Jello I had made for him, because everything tasted "weird". He threw back a couple more doses of Motrin and Tylenol and, after lunch, I was able to convince him to lay down to "rest his eyes".
Three hours later he woke up and his fever had broke. Ah-ha! Progress! I knew by tomorrow he'd be up and ready to attack the world like normal.
But Thursday was not much better. His fever had returned. Not alot, but just enough that I knew he still could not go to school. And by now, he was also very cranky. Thanks to Netflix, he had burned through several seasons of Jimmy Neutron, Pink Panther and Phineas & Ferb in the last three days. And just like someone who binges on all their Easter candy in one sitting, Colin had consumed his fill of cartoons and could not stomach one more. He was bored and restless. His throat was much better but now he had started to cough and his nose to run. We greased him with Vicks, set up the humidifier, prayed and sent him off to bed.
This morning, he woke fever free. But with his nose running faster than a jack rabbit on fire, I agreed to let him stay home one more day. By supper time, this was the end result:
Not one, but two, empty boxes of Kleenex and one very large and very full grocery bag of used tissues.