So William's been sick the last couple of days. As a result, we've been more or less housebound, except for a Kroger-and-Walgreen's run for supplies like Tylenol, ginger ale and most importantly, popsicles. (Don't tell me that a popsicle wouldn't make you feel better if you were sick because I won't believe you.)
He's been running a low-grade fever, so when the fever flares, he gets fussy. When the fever goes down, he's cheerful and sunny. But the two biggest signs that he's not been feeling well are:
1) He's barely eaten anything the last two days except for a cereal bar and, yes, popsicles. This is William we're talking about. He's usually the human equivalent of a garbage disposal when it comes to food. Only my old friend Miller could give him a serious run for his money,
2) This morning, I realized that I hadn't seen or heard from him in awhile. I left the computer and my work and ran downstairs to see if he was still watching "Sesame Street." He wasn't. I panicked and began searching the house for him. Know where I found him? He'd gone into his room and put himself back to bed. Again, this is William. He never ever ever voluntarily sleeps, much less crawls into bed on his own free will with no parental intervention.
Poor little sick guy. I've been trying to keep him quiet so he can rest, and I've mostly succeeded. He's been pretty good about drinking plenty of fluids, so I'm not worried about that, either. But he missed the last day of school today, and that made me a little sad because we love his school--and one of his teachers is moving away this summer. And I'm getting a little nervous about us leaving town on Friday. Let's hope he bounces back quickly.