Ben’s been mildly sick for a couple weeks. He started coughing a bit on vacation, developed a fever about five days later, took five days of Zithromax, and continued to cough and run a modest fever off and on for the next six days. This morning, I couldn’t assess his temperature because both the ear thermometer and the under-the-tongue one purportedly hurt.
We had this dialogue:
Me: How’s your head today?
Ben: It hurts.
Me: Can you show me where it hurts?
[Ben pats the top of his head.]
Me: The whole top of your head, huh?
Ben: [Clarifying] My brain.
It’s wondrous, really, that he’s only been to preschool once in the last week and a half, and neither of us has run away from home. And I don’t think SpongeBob is gay, because I totally want to marry him. He is the only thing maintaining my sanity and Ben’s right now.
UPDATE: The pediatrician practically laughed at me for bringing him in because he was so very perky. But I had the last laugh! He woke up around 10 Monday night complaining of a headache and running a higher fever. So I paged the doctor and woke her up. (He seems less feverish this morning, but is still asleep.)