So this poor boy. This poor little boy who gets lost in the shuffle of his verbose (and I can hear the 8-year-old in my head… “I have no idea what that means” with a sideways glance, like I’m making up words as I go along) and gregarious (same situation) sisters. This boy… caught the funk. We tried. We cleaned and changed sheets and made sure they didn’t drink or eat after us… yet he still got sick. Poor thing would about break your heart with his red eyes and little cough and sniffle.
But he was a trooper all day. It had been a very long and boring weekend in the Hughes home, with both of us sick and an extra day off. They got through yesterday and this morning so we decided to take them to the festival at the church out near our house. The girls had been begging. Josh and I played a game of “Yeah, but I…” until we decided that everyone needed to go. Even sickly. And instead of fighting it, like most kids would have, he just got out of bed, put on his shoes and his new raincoat and got in the car.
And boy did it rain when we got out there. But he didn’t complain. He watched his sisters ride the rides and play the games and he just took it. Like a champ. He did get that piece of pizza he had been asking for.
And, of course, when his sister got her bike out, we heard “I’m feeling better now. Can I ride my bike?” Damn the man! Save the Empire! He was NOT going to be stopped from riding his bike and playing outside. Or at beating the rest of us at a game of Sorry. Fingers crossed he feels somewhat better in the morning.