Remember a few weeks ago when I was complaining about being sick when you have kids? This was the exact opposite of that experience.
I came home from work the other night with a splitting headache. When I greeted my boy with a tired “hi”, he asked why I didn’t sound excited. I didn’t realize I was ever excited, but I didn’t question it. I explained that I had a headache, took some medicine and went into the bathroom to change into my pajamas.
By the time I came out, my little man had dragged my pillow downstairs and set it up on the couch along with a cozy blanket, so I could lie down. He tucked me in, read me a story he wrote in school, called The Runaway Hot Dog and brought me a glass of ice water.
He kept insisting that I nap because as he put it “sleep is the best medicine for a headache”, but I was trying to monitor my email until the work day was officially over. He was not going to take no for an answer. I needed a nap and I was going to take one, whether I liked it or not. He took away my laptop, kissed me on the head and gave me a stuffed giraffe to cuddle with.
He told me to let him know if I needed anything else, put a stuffed animal over my head to hide my eyes from the light he couldn’t reach to turn off and went to work drawing me a pretty picture to make me feel better.
I closed my eyes, feeling loved, lucky and reassured. I must be doing something right….at least with this kid.