His cries jerk me awake, and I’m startled. I bring him in close, but he doesn’t latch on.

Throwing his body back, he wails and pushes away from me. I try my best to soothe him, keep him from waking everyone else, but he doesn’t calm down.

I stand up, hugging him close, and feel the warmth of his cheeks. Feverish, he coughs and cries.

I reach for the bottle of white liquid, wrestle the childproof cap open and squeeze it into his open mouth. He sputters and cries louder.

My thoughts race to phone calls and Urgent Care Clinics, acceptable temperatures and thermometer procedures.

The two of us descend the stairs into the eerie quiet of the living room, his protests and my slippered footfalls the only sounds in the soft light of the lamp.

I sit down in the big brown rocker and try again to feed him. He nurses for a second, at most, and pulls back. I give up and hold him close, rocking. Humming.

Slowly, he gives in to the rhythmic comfort and his eyes grow heavy.

When we awaken, the angry heat has left his tiny body and he eats.

*****************************************************************************

In other news, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my wonderful husband. You don’t look a day over 35, my dear.

Ha, ha. Just kidding. He’s only 32 this year.

We love you very much, babe.

And because this post is for camera photos, I’ll show you T’s birthday card.

Warning: you might collapse from the cuteness. I did.

Note: This is the birthday card in its beginning stages, drawn by Henry (6). I won’t show the end result, since its beloved recipient will get it after work tonight. Also, those are football players above the “daddy”. You should see the rest of the team…


Linking up with KLZ and Liz for iPhone Photo Phun!