Next to Christmas, I can't think of a worse day to be sick than Halloween; or, in this case, Halloween weekend. But that is exactly what our Bear faces as a double blast of illness has rendered this usually active six year-old to the consistency of pumpkin guts.
Dealing with strep throat and an ear infection, Bear has gone between our two couches and his bunk bed these last 24 hours in an attempt to get comfortable, occasionally wearing his Army Man outfit for posterity, or perhaps wishful thinking. Not eating, barely drinking, and hardly sleeping, we spent a feverish, shivery night waiting for the clock to register the time for me to call our pediatrician and (thankfully) make an appointment for the old tonsil-tickling test that would affirm my suspicions.
A quick trip to Target for a prescription of high-dose antibiotics and a big box of frozen fruit bars, a call to Yukon and Wolf to update them on our day, and back home jiggety-jig.
I made a deal with Bear that he could try trick-or-treating tomorrow night if he stays in bed all day today, sweetening the pot with the promise of as many fruit bars as his little stomach could hold. A flavor-sampling later (that would be four bars), he mustered enough energy to help carve our big pumpkin with "angry eyebrows" before returning to the couch downstairs for a Scooby Doo zombie movie.
The strangest part about all this is my expectancy. You see, each and every autumn of this child's life, he gets sick. Since right after his second birthday, when this very issue made Halloween a tenuous possibility, Bear has danced a fine line during the month of October. Last year, Swine Flu; year before that, ears; this year, ears and throat. I'm beginning to think his immune system has an automatic timer.
So, beyond my (nonetheless glorious) view from my eastern-facing windows, I have seen little of the outdoors this weekend. I did, however, capture this shot a few moments ago while watching clouds begin to move up from the south, blocking our last bit of sunshine. Nice. Peaceful.