thinking, talking

Remy’s been somewhat under the weather for the past few days. This of course means that Mommy has similarly been under a cloud of worry.

We’ve done high fevers before. We just haven’t done high fevers with nasty coughs for several days while extremely lethargic and refusing to eat or drink that then turn into full body rashes.

He’s spent the better part of the past three days in his crib. His choice. I would come in, check his temperature, give him more medicine if needed, force him to drink something.  Then he’d point back to his crib and I’d lay him down again. Sometimes when I went in he’d be asleep. Sometimes he’d just be lying there.

He must have done a lot of thinking during that time. This morning I slept late, and when I woke up went in he was already sitting up in bed. He took his pacifier out, pointed to his drink cup and said “Juice!” That’s a first. You better believe he got that sippy, and he gulped about half of it.

Remy is a chatterbox, and talks incessantly, but he doesn’t usually do a whole lot of direct communicating (other than “light”.) Even getting him to sign has been a bit of a pain. So things like pointing to his crib, actually asking for juice…these are new.

After Daddy came home tonight, he surprised us again by saying our cat Mao’s name (which sounded like “ow, ow”) and “ku-ku” when I asked if he wanted to see the cuckoo clock.

Maybe we should get sick more often…?

thinking, talking

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