It never fails with us. Either it hits before we leave or after. This time illness hit 48 hours before our long-awaited trip to Busch Gardens in Virginia. Last year - it was pneumonia after our skiing weekend at Peek n' Peak. And this summer, it was a cold, and then diagnosis of asthma after returning from a lovely weekend of swimming and family fun in Geneseo, New York.
William is fighting a fever, complete with glassy eyes, and little energy. He's lying on the couch watching Noggin. I could be packing at this moment, or trying to write one of six stories I want to get done before we leave, or log one of the many tapes that sit in my briefcase. But I'm not. I'm just typing and watching him rest.
William has just told me to "Stop it". I am typing too loud and keeping him awake. Or perhaps I am interrupting his Noggin viewing. Funny, funny little man. I am still thinking about his announcement to me earlier, "Mom, I have some very sad news to tell you. There is a dead squirrel on the tennis courts. I think a bad guy shot it." Yes, very sad indeed.
His head is back down on the pillow, resting - and no doubt thinking more heavy thoughts about the world. Me, too. Get well soon William.
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