Betterer

Peter overcame his malady by last night, and wound up having enough energy at bedtime to power Manhattan for 3 weeks during a heat wave in summer, with all the air conditioners set to high. Make no mistake, his mom and I were happy to have our regular Peter back, but getting him down was like Hemingway's Old Man struggling with the marlin (without the sharks). Each of us grasped on to an ankle as he crawled all over the bedroom, dragging the two of us around like we were just burrs stuck to his shoelaces. "Peter, it's time for night-night" his mother would tell him. He'd just shake his head, say "nanananana" and keep the motor going. I'd tell him we need to get up early in the morning and he'd just grab my face and try to crush my larynx with his big paw. He was sick of being sick, and now that he wasn't sick he was going to take full advantage of his return to health.

He must have gotten bored at some point because he eventually went down for the night, and stayed down. It was so bad that at one point I was wondering if we needed to give him a couple shots of Nyquil (of course, the serious-minded dad in me says you never give a 10½ month old Nyquil – especially in doses that would make the same serious-minded dad pass out for 3 days straight – but this is a satirical retelling of a serious event, and we have enough gravitas out there that I can skip it here (so nyah!)).

What we come away with is a further feeling of awe for our child, because he took being sick very well, even when it was obvious that he had a nasty sore throat that made it very difficult for him to swallow. I often think of him as my little rock (aside from the hardness of his head when he butts it into my face, that is), and while I don't want to encourage him into being a macho guy who claims to feel no pain, I am encouraged that he is able to endure discomfort and also to recognize when he should take it easy. Case in point, he was weakened by the sickness, but he was cautious enough in feeling that way that he rarely stood up so he wouldn't lose his balance and fall.

We did discover one problem, though. Peter is a very cute baby, even when sick. When you are sick you like to get sympathy, but Peter makes us smile too much, so our sympathetic reactions to, say, a very juicy sneeze, tend to seem more like we are laughing at him, because, well, it's just so adorable. I think that bothers him sometimes. Such a curse…