Prepare to get less sleep than usual, get ready for a lot of nose wiping, because my son has a cold.
To his credit, he’s pushing through and remaining upbeat about the situation, as can be seen here, in the middle of a stack of magazines he’s not supposed to have:
And here, inside a toy he managed to climb into himself (the surprise is not that he did it, more that he managed to avoid getting in face first):
This cold is different – last time he had a cold this bad, Ned was smaller, and couldn’t fight back when we were chucking medicine down his throat, or bat us away like King Kong does to planes when we try to wipe his nose. Key pressure points have been the application of everything and anything to help him recover – nasal spray is my favorite. Whoever designed nasal sprays for children clearly didn’t own one, or they tested it on a pretend one. Bar restraining him with a series of moustache twirling villain ropes, I can see no viable way to get this spray up his nose long enough to squirt up there. It generally results in the spray being fired into the empty space where his nose once was before he moved, and usually ends up in his eyes, where he gets even more annoyed at his situation. By the time we’ve both calmed down enough to try again, he moves, getting another faceful. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t 2am.
It’s upsetting, seeing him want to toddle about, attempt to climb the stairs and place his hands on the radiator, but not be able to because he’s just not got the energy. the other day, he had access to the kitchen, the stairs and numerous other forbidden areas, he he chose to sit with his mum all day. That’s when you know your son is ill.
His first birthday is in a couple of weeks. The last time he had a cold he had it for five weeks. Worry has begun to set in.
Those party rings aren’t going to eat themselves, you know.