One week ago today, Christopher turned two. Unfortunately, it really sucks beans when you are the youngest in the family and your birthday falls during the first week back at school, and you come down with a fever-of-unknown-origin on your birthday and birthday cake is the last thing you want to eat.
We have officially entered the Terrifying-Twos. Really, I think the three's are more terrible, but I can certainly understand why the Two's cause so much panic. There's that whole getting-into-EVERYTHING stage, and the development of words, without the necessary oral muscle control to make them comprehensible. So, you get really good at playing a guessing game. Is it Water? Do you want a walk? What on earth are you asking for, child?? HELP MOMMA!!!
With Parker, it was quite comical. He'd babble for something, and I'd try to interpret and would often get a resounding NO, often followed by a look that I swear said "OK, you foolish woman, I am being as clear as possible and you are just dumb as a post!!" He would give up, grab my hand and take me to what he wanted. This second attempt was typically far more fruitful for his efforts!!
We took Chris to the doctor on Monday, 5 days into this low-grade fever and feeling icky stuff only to find that both his lungs and his ears are clear. Its just a random virus, nothing to do but keep him comfortable, it should go away on its own in 7-10 days.
There are most certainly times when you want the doctor to find something if only for the reason that the discovery often leads to something we can actually DO for the child. This was not the case for us and Chris is not any better, babbling through coughing fits, getting royally twerked at us because we can not only not understand him, but are clearly not doing enough to help him feel better!
Last night, he falls asleep on Steve's shoulder downstairs and we get him nestled into bed... where he stays for precisely 45 minutes before waking in a fit of screaming. OK... I go calm him down, and head back to my own bed, only for him to wake up about 30 minutes later. I go back into his room to find him standing in his crib, screaming. I approach, and he hands me his blanket. I pick him up from his crib, he squirms from my arms, toddles his little coughing and crying tuckus over to the door of his room, out to the hall-way, into the guest room, climbs onto the bed and asks for his puppy-bear. He then buries his head under the pillow and drifts back into a fitful sleep.
Yeah... no questions as to what he wanted from me.
It's not exactly what I'd say is my ideal night's sleep, it is pretty wonderful to know that just being next to mom can sometimes be the best medicine.