Little Zoey is still down for the count. No one sleeps. I don’t know. Maybe her sisters are sleeping. I know Captain America and I aren’t. There’s so much coughing. No, it’s not a barky croup cough. The fever comes and goes. Poor baby is just absolutely miserable. I don’t know how her itty bitty little body can manufacture that much snot. Gross? Tough. You aren’t living with it.
Today she has mostly cried. The cough makes her cry. Her poor little throat must be just raw from a full day of coughing yesterday. When she cries, it makes her cough. You see where this is going. She’s the kind of pitiful where she calls to me from the next room to say her feet are cold and she needs a blanket on her. The blanket that is right next to her, three inches from her feet. Her little nose has been rubbed raw, so every nose wipe leads to more tears.
A sick preschooler is just SAD. She doesn’t want water. SHE WANTS WATER!! She wants applesauce. SHE DOESN’T LIKE THIS APPLESAUCE! She doesn’t need to go potty. SHE NEEDS TO GO POTTY!! It’s not even frustrating, just sad. I spend most of my time just trying to calm the cough. And preparing every space she’s in for a possible…over productive cough. Oh, and not sleeping. I’m doing a lot of that. The saving grace right now is that her sisters are largely able to care for themselves. They set alarms and get up and ready for school. They do what they need to do. And then we all sit around and lament about Zoey. “It’s so sad…”
I want to be optimistic, but really, I’m sitting around waiting to see who goes down next.