Rhett was eating. He was playing. He was yelling at Madalyn to leave him alone so he could eat in peace. I thought he was WELL.
I was wrong.
This is how I found him once we got home from church today.
He didn't look so hot, but no doubt he was. Poor guy had a temp of 103.3.
I immediately gave him Advil, took off his layers of clothes and put him to bed. Shortly after, I found him like this.
And because it was so sweet, I couldn't help but take a close-up of Towmater in his little hand. I thought it was the perfect portrait of a boy, ya know? They're never too sick for their cars, and they're never cuter than when they sleep with them.
He did well the rest of the day, but he did go to bed with a fever of 103.2. I wonder what tomorrow may bring. I'm hoping it'll be a flashlight so I can navigate my way through this darkened tunnel of the-house-that-will-never-be-well-again.
