I think that Thing 2 has transitioned from being an over-confident seal, clapping and barking for himself after an epic performance for a thousand guests at an aquarium, to an old woman named Maude, who smokes eight packs of unfiltered Kools a day and yells at children for walking on her grass as they head to school.
Which is to say, we’re making progress on the road to recovery from this RSV and croup cocktail.
The epinephrine in the nebulizer has been an enormous help in calming his cough down and opening some airways so that he can drag in the oxygen and release the carbon dioxide, but listen…
Epinephrine hops Thing 2 up like a hyperactive hummingbird. He told me today, “Look, Ma! If I flap my arms really fast, I can stay afloat in the air for six minutes and not have my feet touch the ground at all! And my hands are shaking, Ma!”
Which is code for I WON’T BE TAKING A NAP, BECAUSE MY HEART IS BEATING LIKE AN F-15 STRIKE EAGLE AIR FORCE JET, AND I CAN ACTUALLY SEE NOISE HAPPEN.
So, we’ve had ourselves a day of BUSY. And also of COUGHING.
This afternoon, after my nineteenth failed attempt at getting Thing 2 to come down off the epinephrine high and JUST TAKE A NAP, ALREADY, I decided that we needed something fun to do. Since I wasn’t at my Miss America beauty pageant best (Read: I WORE MY PAJAMAS ALL DAY AND DIDN’T WASH MY HAIR.), the fun stuff had to be done at home, because I wasn’t about to venture out looking like Maude myself, toting around my baby with the dried snot encrusted all over his nose, while he coughed up a lung and deposited a spleen on the sidewalk.
Inspiration struck me, and I squirted some baby lotion onto a cheap cookie tray.
We were golden, people. Thing 2 smeared and wiped and swirled and rubbed lotion for quite some time, which means it held his attention longer than the usual six seconds.
The hummingbird had landed.
And then, because he’s determined to grow up and kick my heart right out of my chest cavity with all the emotions involved with him reaching different milestones, Thing 2 stood up and walked over to me.
Be still, my little hummingbird.
(That would be the hummingbird on epinephrine. Which is exactly like a hummingbird hovering at an espresso drip.)
Y’all have a happy Tuesday evening. Stay well.