Thursday, February 1

A Nightmare Before Bedtime

With every giant step for Spritekind our little monster takes, I sometimes forget he is still barely a toddler. Fresh out of infancy and raring to go. As he repeats his ABCs all the way through to XYZ, names all his colors, counts to Ten and ties his own shoelaces (okay,the last one is a fabrication) he impresses me with his maturity. I mean, any minute now he'll be slugging baseballs, ripping slap-shots and bending it like Beckham...

But there are times that remind me just how young and fragile he actually is. Most parents will tell you there is no more trying time than when your child is sick. More so when they are still not old enough to fully appreciate what is happening to them. The Sprite had a few episodes recently that brought me back down to reality.

First, he had an encounter with pins and needles. Something new for a kid to deal with. How do you explain your hand falling to sleep? Trying to get The Sprite to wave his hand around, clench and unclench his fist, was futile at best. Pins and needles is no party for anyone, but imagine feeling it for the first time not having any clue what is going on. Needless to say screams of frustration drowned out my cries of advice.

Next, he had a bout of bad dreams. He woke up one night in quite a state, and for the next few nights he slept in our bed as any attempt to put him down in his crib freaked him out. It were as if we were trying to put him into a pit of rattlesnakes. Throughout the day he would remind himself, or us, that he wanted "no dreams" or "dreams all gone". So after a few nights we figured we had to get over this no matter how rough it would get. We had to go cold turkey. So the next few nights we took turns every hour or so going into his room to rub his back and convince him it's okay until he dropped back to sleep. After a week or so it was back to a regular sleep pattern. Freddie Kruger will have to wait...

Finally, this afternoon I get a call from the school that His Spriteness attends. He has a fever and is lolling about with a fraction of the energy of the nuclear reactor that usually runs inside him. Later, I get another call from his mother, having just picked him up and subsequently witnessed projectile vomit over the school floor. At home, he vomitted several more times between Wiggles songs, one occasion he sprayed his mothers white plastic Mac keyboard as she tryed to load Playhouse Disney Dot Com... His fever eventually faded and he held down 2 slices of bread and some water, so we put him down to bed. We did the usual ritual of books and he seemed much like his normal self. However, after one hour he was up crying and wanting to be held. And again one hour after that. So it is going to be a long night is my guess if the "owies in the tummy" have anything to do with it. It seems the ability to self soothe has not extended itself beyond "doing laps" around the house in my arms.

So I reckon the NHL will have to wait a few months. The Sprite might have a little growing yet to do. As big a boy he seems to me, I gotta remember he's still just a baby.

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