Bennett came down with a nasty cough on Friday. Like, I was afraid school had both taught him how to blow kisses and how to inhale. We gave him orange juice with dinner, plugged in the humidifier and rubbed his little chest with Vicks because that's what mom did when you were sick. We were not entirely surprised to be woken at three in the morning with a sick baby. We were, however, entirely surprised at just how sick he sounded. He sounded like a seal stuck in some slob's plastic soda bottle ring, wheezy and loud and scared.
We hightailed it to the shower where we sat in a steam bath singing show tunes and noticing our rental has white wallpaper that was slowly steaming off. We all attempted to go back to bed, but woke up to painful welps again. Giving up, I rocked the B to sleep and attempted to snooze sitting upright.
I anticipated the doctor would tell us it was the RSV again. Nope. The croup.* It is apparently the baby version of laryngitis, which can be the result of the common cold. Well, huh. Bennett survived the last round of the ick. We don't know any sick kids at school. Except, for umm, mommy. Sorry, babe. Really.
Luckily, the Friday night nightmare was a one night gig. The drugs the doctor prescribed have been helpful. He was fun, a little hack-y from time to time, but not far from his usual moody self. Don't tell anyone, but I was kind of glad I got to stay home with the "sick kid" yesterday. Let me just say, playing in the sandbox for the first time is a life changer. I think it may be why people have kids.
* I really had to resist titling this post, Croup is the Poop, because really, when you have refrained from writing posts about poop** for fourteen months, why ruin it now.