Today it was Cate's and my turn to get sick. I can vaguely remember deliriously laying on Johnny's bed watching William stack legos while Matthew played Run and Hit Mom in the Head: Giggly Shrieks Edition.
We pushed through the sickness and made a huge two bedroom, complete with electricity, fort outside before having a picnic at the park. We even made it to a play date at our friends'. Don't you love the mom that comes over with sick kids? I tried to talk the kids into going to the splash pad at six because it was 94 degrees, but they weren't having it, lame.
By the time we got home, Cate and I collapsed on the bed. Matthew cried out and Cate looked at me and said gravely, "should I take care of it, or you?" Bless her heart. I told her she could be the seven year old and rest while her mom pulled up her britches, and took care of her brothers and nursed her to health.
For the record, Matthew just wanted to wrestle.
For dinner, the boys had yogurt, crackers and half a watermelon. Seriously.
When things settled down and I laid on my bed to stop the spinning, William came and colored next me, insisting I watch the whole time. I love his little knuckle dimples and his little nose and profile and I loved just hearing him breathe loud and steady as he earnestly tried coloring in the lines.
We talked about a few things but mostly just that we both have Brown eyes. That's a big deal.