February is generally the month that finds one or some or all of us surrounded by thermometers, barf buckets, and blankets, spending days curled up on the couch or in beds unable to eat or drink. February is like that.
But this February was uncharacteristically kind to us. Manchild had a phantom fever for a couple of days. One minute he was fine, the next he was lying lethargically on the couch, and then, a few hours later he was back to normal. That was it. February seemed to have lost its fury.
Where February faltered, however, March seems to have picked up the slack. Because today the Little Miss started to get a little clingy, a little whimper-y, and finally, a little warm. It’s her first fever – her first illness – and it’s a little bit heartbreaking. Of course, I love that she’s letting me hold her without squirming. I love that she’s falling asleep so easily and peacefully. I love her little rosy cheeks. But I wish she didn’t have to break 100 degrees for that to happen.
I am glad that our luck lasted as long as it did, and my fingers are crossed that she’ll be her normal squirmy self in the morning.
Sleep tight, little lady.