There is very little to love about taking care of sick little ones. The exhaustion, loss of patience, the feeling that nothing is getting done, and did I mention exhaustion?
The little there is to love, though, is heartwarming, and sometimes funny.
Brotherly love: C-note sitting on my footstool singing "ABCs" and "Jesus Loves Me" over and over while I am rocking his moaning, fevered brother. The moaning would cease during C-note's serenades!
Tissue box discovery: "Can I have a Kleenex? I have a snot!" "Mommy is busy, but do you see that box over there? You pull a Kleenex up from out of the box and wipe your nose with it, ok?" He gets a tissue. "OH! Look! It comes out again!"
Ah, the wonders of childhood!
Nighttime woes: "I can't sleep, I have too many coff-ehz in my mouth!"
Probably the best feeling during illness is the feeling of being needed. Especially when a wimpering baby clings to you when you try to put him down. A normally non-cuddly baby quietly resting on your chest as you soothe him to sleep...
Oh, the laundry? Yeah, I got loads of it on my couch, but at least it's clean. There's not much room for sitting. I guess I had better fold it. Maybe tomorrow. Right now I need to sleep...