I woke up to the sound of a seal barking beside my head. I stumbled around in the dark, essentially sleep-walking, and shuffled Heath back to his room. There was zero light shining through the window blinds, I could tell it wasn't at all time to get up. According to the beaming red digits on his bedroom clock, it was 4:23. In the morning. Very early morning.
I tried to get him back into his bed, while he explained his early awakening. The germs have been dancing in my body for days, then they settled right here in my throat, and now they are connecting to each other, making me cough like this. This explanation was punctuated by interspersed gasping and seal barks. It finally dawned on me what was happening, so I shuffled him back to our room, preparing for our next course of action. Sitting in a steamy bathroom with the shower's hot water running. And avoiding steroids at all cost. Heath on steroids is like, well, Heath on steroids. Toys get broken. Books get ripped. Siblings get smacked and wrestled to the ground. All accompanied by Hulk-like clothes ripping and growling antics.
Fortunately, he fell back to sleep with little effort. It took me an hour or so to settle back down. I spent my time wisely by mentally composing a complaint letter to BOB jogging strollers (on behalf of a friend who is expecting twins any day now) about their stunning lack of foresight when it comes to using the car seat adapters for twins in the Duallie. You can't. For $600 plus dollars, you should. What on earth were they thinking, and why haven't they fixed such a blatant error yet?
Heath made a good effort at enjoying his day, but at 6pm, he was done. Beyond niceties and unable to hold his own body up. I don't think he even ate dinner. He was asleep by 7:30, the trusty vaporizor by his side. Let's hope that seal doesn't resurface tonight.
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