And today Owen was sick. He had a fever when he got here and was sad-eyed and fussy and refused to take the Children's Advil and Lily and I plotted when he was out of the room and I made him a juice drink and he sucked it down and yes, it had Advil in it and Owen suspected we would do that and he asked me if there was medicine in it and not quite lying, I said, "It's juice."
Then we sat down for supper and he said, "I so chilly," and I felt his head and the fever was back and he wouldn't take his medicine and he wanted a bath and so I gave him and his brother a bath and he got more and more miserable by the second.
I tried and tried to talk him into taking the Advil but he wouldn't and by the time he left, he was crying and I felt horrible, terrible, and I wanted so badly to make him feel better but I couldn't and his daddy will take wonderful, such good care of him and his mama will be home from work soon but I just could hardly stand it.
After they left, a storm came up and the house shook with the thunder and the lightening and the rain hit the roof like bullets and then I kicked something in the hallway and damn, it was a fucking tiny bat, weighed down by dust and Mr. Moon had to take him outside and it's that sort of evening.
I think I will go to bed very soon. The storm has dwindled to a more gentle rain, AND AS GOD IS MY WITNESS A FROG JUST DROPPED FROM THE CEILING?! SIX INCHES FROM MY COMPUTER.
Yes. I think bed is called for. I sure hope that Jason got Owen to take that Advil. I have no idea why he fights it so. Hell, I tasted it. It tastes as good as a grape Popsicle, or at least certainly no worse.
And I hope that tomorrow my grandson wakes up feeling much, much better.
I would wish that for all of us.