halleyscomet

My lovely wife spent the day helping her best friend with the FORMS OF DOOM doom doom. To facilitate this battle with red tape, I took our son Hootiebird out for some time at the park and some grocery shopping. The park trip was entertaining, as he soon made friends and played madly.

The Park

At one point a six year old boy, two years older than my son, watched him climb some playground equipment and commented to me, "He's a monkey! He's FAST!" He proceeded to, on and off, play with Hootiebird, playfully competing with him. The kid was pretty nimble himself. I got the impression he was just enjoying playing with someone at a similar level of physicality who just wanted to PLAY. His older sister was also there and she seemed very dismissive and critical of her younger brother.

Later on, Hootiebird was playing with two kids, a ten year old boy and his seven year old sister. They played on a tire swing but after a while Hootiebird got off, saying the swing was too fast for him. Once off, he went off to the side, sat down and watched the two play. I noticed he was sighing heavily every now and then.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sad."

"Why are you sad?" I asked.

He sighed heavily, something that seems to come naturally to him as opposed to being an affectation. "He has a little sister, and I don't."

The lad is shameless in his petitioning for a younger sibling.

The Store

Grocery shopping started off just fine. Hootiebird was recognized by one of the women at the deli counter. She used to see Hootiebird each morning when she rode the bus when she was in high school. She remembered her interactions with him fondly and she lit up when he waved and said "hello."

Later on he convinced me to get him a large, inexpensive, "Hello Kitty" activity book. He was vibrating with excitement as he flipped through it, excitedly pointing out every new thing. At one point he grabbed my hand, pulled my hand down and said "Daddy! Daddy! look at this!"

I looked. "It has some dot-to-dots" I said.

"YES!" he called out excitedly. "It has number lines!" Clearly this book was a tome of wonder for the lad.

It was while he was babbling away with excitement and I was encouraging him that I noticed some motion in a reflection out of the corner of my eye. I glanced and noticed a woman who looked like she was trying to see something to my left. Noticing Hootiebird and I were pretty close to the eggs, I moved aside a bit so she could get at whatever she wanted. I went back to Hootiebird, who still had a tight grip on my left hand, when I saw a set of keys skid across the floor from behind me and stop a good yard past my cart. I looked behind me and noticed the same woman looking not at the food beside me, but at me.

Hootiebird released his grip on my hand to turn around and look towards the keys. In so doing he uncovered my wedding band. It was at this moment that the woman's face went from curiosity to sour disappointment. It was a very sudden and obvious transformation. She apologized for dropping her keys and casually walked around me to retrieve them.

When I told Whuffle about this later she commented, "You were being checked out."

"I really should blog this," I said, "We might get a few male friends offering to babysit him for free if we do."

"He's a major vector for baby rabies," Whuffle sagely concluded.

Caleb is home sick again, this time being cared for by Whuffle.

He was still lethargic but was eating and drinking a little. We watched TV, hung out, cuddled and when I went to pick him up to put him to bed he threw up all over me and the couch. A quick bath and a load of laundry later he was in bed, calming down after the panic of throwing up. I explained to him that throwing up was a way for our bodies to get rid of things that are making us sick and complimented him on what a big boy he was being. He was, all things considered, pretty collected.

I put him to bed and he started to doze, but woke up a couple of hours later asking me to snuggle him. I put my arm under his head to cuddle him and he threw up on both of us. This time however my shirt got the brunt of it and his bed was spared. He clapped his hands over his mouth and said "uh, oh Daddy. I have more." He then made a "hurking" sound.

"Let's get to the bathroom," I said, scooping him up. When we got to the bathroom I directed him to lean over the toilet so he could finish throwing up. He took a minute or so to finish but when he was done he spat into the john and commented "I feel better now Daddy."

We took off our sick covered shirts and washed our hands. He remained cool, calm and collected throughout the experience.

Whuffle and I decided he should stay in our bed with me, and she went to his bed so she could get some sleep. Over the course of the night he woke up a few more times. He went to the bathroom a few times but most of his wake-ups were because he felt nauseous. He would call for me to accompany him, head to the bathroom, lean over the toilet and eventually say "Nope, I don't need to throw up Daddy."

When I woke up, he was draped over my back, having apparently decided I made a grand body pillow. Before I left for the day I complimented him on how well he'd handled himself, and asked him to be good for Mommy, make sure he drinks plenty of water and eat some food today.

"OK Daddy," he said before snuggling back up to Whuffle.