And then there are unexpected events that cross the quiet days I had planned for myself. A sick kid, for instance.
One should think: nursing mode. Lots of sleep and cuddles and some light cooking, water, watching movies. Thermometer, medication, maybe the occasional change of sheets.
But my Little Boy is a boss when it comes to being ill. If he feels unwell, he sleeps. And if feeling better, you would have no clue he has a fever. Or an ear infection. Or a very bad cold. When he feels okay, he is a whirlwind. My doctor always raised her eyebrows when I used to ask her if he could please go to daycare if he was not contagious. He only needed five minutes to convince her of my point, making a gigantic mess in her cabinet.
After the appointment with the doctor, my son asked me if he could play outside. As it was a gorgeous day, of course he could. Then he pulled out his little table and chair and asked for his lunch to be served outside. Too cute so how could I refuse.
If anyone would have called me at that very moment and asked me how he was, I would have told him what I saw: a boy carefully picking the chocolate and cheese from his plate, leaving the bread untouched. Then wandering to the bushes, crawling under and behind, so he could get past the fence we put up around our pool. Installing himself to throw grass and sticks in it.
No nursing mode for me.