Late in coming...

Note: I began this post on September 30th, saved it as a draft and never came back to it.  It's still relevant, though thankfully Grayson has gotten better, had another cold, recovered from that one, and is now doing fine.  Though he should be napping right now, and he's not, the little turd.  So there's no sweeping conclusions to be had or interesting insight, but what the hey, why waste a good start?

My little man Grayson got sick today.  High fever, though not high enough to carry us off to the doctor, and I consider it a mixed blessing.  I feel bad that the poor guy feels terrible, but it's the only time I can get him to cuddle with me.  Which is too bad as well, because while it serves my crazy mom longing to hold my babies close and tight, it makes him even hotter, and holds all that fever heat in close to his body.  What a crappy catch 22, the only time my kids want me to hold them tight and love on them is when I should stand across the room, waiving cool air their direction.  He's done his best to be a tough guy, but every 3 or 4 hours, the fever reducer starts wearing off, and he starts to whimper and whine, and now that he can talk, he wanders the house with tears running down his cheeks, saying "ow ow ow" in his most heartbreaking sick boy voice.  So I ask him where it hurts, and he can't really tell.  He knows he's miserable, and feeling owie, but he picks a different body part every time I ask, and just says "ow."  I think his brother had the same thing a few days ago, but here again, I see the stark contrasts between my "twins".  Except for sharing the same moms and the same birthday, these two are hardly alike, and that's certainly not fair when it comes to illnesses.  When the demon bugs come knocking on our door, they bypass Ben with nary a problem, and slam full force into poor Grayson.