My sweet, big, happy bug celebrated turning 22 months with a slight fever that got him kicked out of daycare. I thought nothing of it because Will is the king of random, low-grade fevers that go as quickly as they come. So I took the day off, played with him like everything was fine, and put him in for a nap when soon after I heard him gasping for breath, and found him sitting up in his crib holding his chest with a complete look of panic on his face. I hysterically called the doctor, hysterically rushed him into the office, got even more hysterical when I saw them waiting for me and that his pediatrician looked a little hysterical (will NEVER complain about 45 minute wait AGAIN), and just sobbed while I held him while they gave him a breathing treatment. And I've just been a big ball of waterworks since then, including right at my desk this morning when someone asked how he was doing. But I'm giving thanks a little early that my little guy will get through this bout of RSV, without a stay in the hospital, and before I know it he'll be back to his normal little self yelling 'No!' and 'Elmo!' and throwing hard things at me and begging for candy and cookies and 'helping' with the laundry by throwing clean clothes in the hamper while yelling "yay! help!". Next week I can truly give thanks for two healthy kids. And to be honest, as exhausting as it is holding my big ball of love at night so he can sleep, it's secretly been kind of nice.
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