This is a good thing.
When I picked up The Imp at daycare today, he looked tired, and a little wan. My mom-spider senses got a little twitchy. On the ride home (all four minutes of it) he fell asleep. Since I had just been describing to a friend how The Imp never. stops. moving, to have him fall asleep at 5:30 in the afternoon was a bit of a red flag. We got inside the apartment, and all he wanted to do was sit in my lap.
Me: "Okay, honey, come sit in my lap for one minute and then I'll start making dinner."
The Imp: "No. I want to have a long, long, long, long, very long hug."
Me: "Okay. Come sit with me and let's have a hug."
The Imp crawled into my lap, rested his head against my chest, and put his little arms around me.
Me: "What should we have for dinner tonight? Would you like to have French toast?"
The Imp, holding me tighter: "No. I just want to have a long, long hug."
It should be noted that French toast is one of The Imp's favourite meals of all time. He loves to help me make it, he loves that it can be eaten with syrup or jam and how cool is that? He loves French toast. It is second only to blueberry pancakes in The Imp's little foodie heart.
When he didn't even lift his head off my chest at the mention of French toast, I knew we had a problem.
Me: "Honey, would you like to cuddle with Mommy on the couch?"
The Imp: "Yes."
Three minutes later he was sound asleep. His cheeks were flushed, and a thermometer gently placed in his armpit revealed a slightly elevated temperature.
In months past, I would've gone into crisis management mode. I would've immediately put him to bed, dosed him with ibuprofen, taken his temperature every 15 minutes. I would've set up Seizure Watch HQ in his room (basically a pallet on the floor for me to
In other words, I would've freaked out.
Not without cause; he's had a couple of febrile seizures in the past, and they are terrifying to behold. But this time I feel like I've got a handle on it. Don't get me wrong, I still won't sleep much, but at least I'll be not sleeping in my own bed. I'll check on him every few hours, and if he spikes a real fever, I'll administer ibuprofen as required. But I'm not panicking. I don't have knots in my stomach. I'm not picturing him turning blue with foam coming out of his mouth, which is what his first febrile seizure looked like. (Seriously, the most horrible experience of my entire life, thinking I was watching my 16 month old dying in my arms. I have no words.)
He's a sturdy little boy who's had a runny nose for a couple of days, and his body's fighting off whatever
And I am not freaking out. He's fine.