Still a Giant After All

I got to look after Tornado again today. You see, he is not feeling very well and from what Arwen told me, both of his ears are infected. Most of the time he didn’t seem to be sick at all, but on closer inspection he is just not himself.

For one thing, he didn’t break anything today while he was here. He turned down a cookie and he didn’t eat the pancakes even though they were liberally coated with maple syrup. He didn’t cry when I suggested that instead of playing in the basement he should have a nap. He had a nap! I had to wake him up a couple of hours later so that he would actually sleep tonight sometime before midnight. When I did wake him up, he cried and whimpered for almost an hour while I cuddled him. Poor little guy.

Lucky me though. There is something terribly sad and at the same time terribly wonderful about a sick little boy. They will sit in your arms and let you cuddle them for just as long as you want to. They will listen and watch the TV with rapt attention; it doesn’t matter if it is Handy Manny, Sesame Street, NCIS or the Weather network. When I read a book to him, he just stares at the page and every now and then will point at something and then drop his hand as if the effort of holding his hand up was just too much. Maybe it is.

I love these times. Well, not the part where a fart becomes a “shart”, or when they look you in the face and then cough, spraying you with enough germs to put the population of a small African nation into comas. I know that in 7 – 9 days, my eyes will start getting red and feel hot, the ringing in my ears will prevent my hearing anything else at all. I will develop explosive diarrhea, feel nauseous and somehow my tongue will feel as if it has grown a thick coat of hair. I will smell that smell I remember from many years ago when dad was sick. The only good thing is that I will lose weight because the thought of eating anything at all will cause a dash for the bathroom.

In some ways, it would be nice if there were a giant that would hold me in his arms wrapped in a blanket. He could let me watch TV with him and read stories to me. I would raise my hand and point at the page, but the effort of holding my arm up would be too much for me. He could tuck me into bed with my favourite stuffed animal and a soft, warm blanket for an afternoon nap. If he woke me up too early I would be grumpy and whine and whimper. When he tried to hold me I would slap his hand and scream “NO”!

I wouldn’t put up too much of a fight though, because at the end of the day I would be very sick and the guy trying to cuddle me is still a giant after all.