Holy psychosis, Batman!
So, the Sprout has a fever. Why is this newsworthy, you might very well ask?
It's not. Babies get fevers. They are healthy and help to make his little body stronger. Having a fever now may actually help him in the long run, and there is no damage done under 108 degrees in infants. I know this. Ok, some if this I just learned via Google U, but the gist? Well known.
And yet, last night, one word kept swimming through my head. I kept pushing it down to the bottom of the pool where maybe a little shark could come by and snatch it away (yes, dammit, there are sharks in pools. In our hot tub, for example. When we bought a house with a drownerific hot tub in the back yard which the children were fascinated [fascinated!] with I promptly informed them that there were sharks that lived at the bottom and therefore they could not enter the hot tub without parental involvement. My husband has a theory that a fairy dies every time we lie to the kids but, meh. It kept them the hell away from the hot tub. But it might explain the Bean's reluctance to enter any body of water deeper than his bathtub.), but it would float right back up to the top (shakes fist at pretend pool-sharks).
....MENINGITIS......
my brain would whisper, in more of a stage-whisper-shouty kind of way.
..........MENINGITIS........
...aaaaand that's when I decided that that kind of heavy Salman Rushdie book that I was trying to avoid reading was sounding really good, so instead of listening to my crazy ass brain whisper to me that my baby had meningitis because he's running a 101.6 fever and we're behind on inoculations, I read about the rape of Kashmir instead.
Yay!
It's not. Babies get fevers. They are healthy and help to make his little body stronger. Having a fever now may actually help him in the long run, and there is no damage done under 108 degrees in infants. I know this. Ok, some if this I just learned via Google U, but the gist? Well known.
And yet, last night, one word kept swimming through my head. I kept pushing it down to the bottom of the pool where maybe a little shark could come by and snatch it away (yes, dammit, there are sharks in pools. In our hot tub, for example. When we bought a house with a drownerific hot tub in the back yard which the children were fascinated [fascinated!] with I promptly informed them that there were sharks that lived at the bottom and therefore they could not enter the hot tub without parental involvement. My husband has a theory that a fairy dies every time we lie to the kids but, meh. It kept them the hell away from the hot tub. But it might explain the Bean's reluctance to enter any body of water deeper than his bathtub.), but it would float right back up to the top (shakes fist at pretend pool-sharks).
....MENINGITIS......
my brain would whisper, in more of a stage-whisper-shouty kind of way.
..........MENINGITIS........
...aaaaand that's when I decided that that kind of heavy Salman Rushdie book that I was trying to avoid reading was sounding really good, so instead of listening to my crazy ass brain whisper to me that my baby had meningitis because he's running a 101.6 fever and we're behind on inoculations, I read about the rape of Kashmir instead.
Yay!
posted by Emily at
10:26 AM
2 Comments:
Ok, so I totally love your blog. Very funny, and rambling and real. Will be back.
Oh, and hope it WASN'T meningitis.
Thank you, Tracey. And, no. Not meningitis. Or encephalitis. Or any other -itis besides maybe low-fever-itis.
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