I'm 2!

Over two... it's taken me quite a bit of time to get back at it. Jake left his "one's" behind by giving Dave and me (and his pediatrician) his first real health scare. What started as a case of croup turned into bronchitis and that almost turned into pneumonia. Why he wasn't able to fight off what should've been a mild respiratory virus, no one's sure, but we're hoping it was just a case of getting hit by two bugs at once and not a sign that he has asthma. Anyway, after a variety of heavy meds, Jake was almost back to normal for his second birthday. He was still a little ill on his actual birthday, but Dave and I took the day off and took him to Happy Hallow.

He's been two for a week and I think he's taking it a little too seriously. Boy is he determined... and that leads to lots of temper tantrums and meltdowns. Dave and I looked at each other at 8:00 am on Saturday and just said "All this before 9:00?" But I still can't help but laugh at some of the things that comes out of his mouth. My favorite recent quotes include:

Jake to me: "That your juice?"

Me: "Yeah, it's my orange juice."

Jake: "No, that lellow. Lellow juice"

(so right! orange juice IS yellow!)

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Jake after dropping his thomas train: "Dammit!"

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Jake to his pediatrician at his 2-year appointment: "I wear socks and shoes"

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Me to Jake: "Why are you crying? What's wrong?"

Jake through tears: "I wanna see garbage trucks!"

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He also recently brought his juice box over to my foot and offered my big toe some juice by holding the straw up and saying "There you go...".

little deuce croup

Jake is leaving behind the last year with a bang. Saturday a fever and breathing problems came out of nowhere, and by this morning he had lost his voice and was in obvious pain. Turns out he has croup, which sounds like something people should have stopped getting in the 1800's, but apparently it's still around "especially for children in day care." I hate when doctors say that. And she said this right before she strapped a big oxygen mask on Jake's face, told us he'd have to have a "breathing treatment" for 15 minutes, and left the room. Fifteen minutes! An almost-two-year old not feeling well with a mask strapped on his face? I tried my best to keep it on him, and I have the bruises on my shins to prove it.

We spent the day trying to follow doctors orders by getting lots of rest (I think we watched "Cars" 17 times), drinking enough juice boxes to fill a small landfill, and taking non-recalled doses of Motrin every 6-8 hours. Sounds like the little guy is going to have a rough week while he recovers from this, but I'm feeling lucky that he's peacefully asleep in his crib right now and hopeful that he'll shake this in time to fully enjoy turning "deuce" next Thursday.