First Cold

Elijah had another first yesterday. First bad cold. The studio audience goes, “Awwwww.”

I relieved Pam from her babysitting duties last night and opened a bottle of wine. Grover crept in and started whining. I’m not lying here, people. Grover cried and whined and walked over to the stairs. It could be coincidence, but Grover led me upstairs to our room, where Eli was hacking and wheezing and generally blowing snot all over his crib.

Not knowing what to do, I rolled him onto his back and went to my favorite baby reference book. Now, Diana and I differ on our baby books. She likes the old standard “What to Expect” books. My favorite book is by this New York doctor whose motto is “Laissez Faire.” Kid hits his head on the table? Kid learns not to walk by the table. Kid sticks his finger in a socket? Kid learns not to stick his finger in a socket. I exaggerate, but he’s kind of controversial.

So I look under the section, “Colds.” His recommendation? I kid you not, it’s “Ride it out.”

So I went back to my wine and TV. Content in my awesome fathering.

Diana arrived home several hours later and discovered our hacking baby. She was instantly concerned. I said, “Ride it out! Ride it out!” Grabbed the thermometer and I said, “Ride it out! Ride it out!” She inserted it (you know where), I cried, “Ride it out! Ride it out!” His fever was 101. Diana looked at me like I was an idiot. I whispered, “Ride it out?”

After a night of Tylenol and crying, Elijah seemed to improve this morning. But he’s still pretty sick. Elijah must be hoping to ride out my fathering for the next 18 years.