Last night actually went better than I thought it would. I greeted grumpy Husband out in garage holding groggy, yet very cute and fuzzy-around-the-edges Son. He had just woke up from his second marathon nap of the day, and he is so sweet when he has just gotten up.
Husband went from cranky to calm in about the time it took for Son to ask to go to him, and proceed to pet Husband's beard. Son just seemed to know that daddy needed him. It was so sweet. Maybe I am projecting empathy into the situation, but regardless, Son was the grounding effect that Husband needed to pull it all back into perspective. To see Son's smile, with that little dimple in his left cheek, can push away just about anything. I'm so grateful to have this little boy.
Son was feeling really warm after his nap, to the point where I was prompted to get a little worried. My suspicions of just being overtired were way off. With a little distraction from daddy, Son allowed me to take a, ahem, rectal temperature that was 103.6. I have a feeling that it was probably higher. Even with distraction, Mr. Wiggles (aka Son) managed to get the thermometer to the point where it probably wasn't in far enough. His temp could have very well been higher. I called the pediatrician, got the answering service, and then the on-call nurse. Turns out I have two choices; an unidentified virus that is making the rounds with no symptoms other than a highish fever, or hand, foot, and mouth disease. Yuck. I'm leaning towards the plain old virus, since he has been eating pretty well. I nursed him before he went to bed, and to see him so tired, hot, and feeling lousy in general, I held on a little longer than I normally do before I put him down for the night. I guess you don't realize how lucky you are sometimes. Lucky that all this was treatable by a dose of some very grapey Motrin and sleep. How lucky we are to have him.
Lucky to have the choice of holding him a little longer.