Thursday, March 22, 2012

Angry Old Man

Elijah and I attended cousin Finn’s birthday party last weekend. It seemed only fair, given the fact Eli had been asking to go for the previous 30 weeks.

It was at Legoland. The first thing I noticed about Legoland is they do not serve liquor. I would’ve appreciated this. And I’m fairly sure everyone of drinking age in the building would concur.

The second thing I noticed was a sign explaining in great detail how Legoland goes to great lengths to disinfect all the millions of legos millions of boogery children touch every minute in their establishment.

I immediately thought to myself, “My family is about to get violently ill.”

I was right.

About 6 minutes after arriving home from Legoland, Elijah began coughing so hard he puked his guts out. Luca, who did not attend Legoland, followed suit out of some kind of bizarre sibling barf rivalry. Both boys fell into a deep, weeklong sickness that has just begun to subside.

Aslkjfds fhjdsgauedfdsfusdhfsadkfshh.ahafsdfjadsfhsd. Oh, I’m sorry. I must have dosed off since I haven’t slept this entire week.

About 1,000 times a night, one boy or another would cough so hard they’d hit their heads on the ceiling and begin wailing.

Diana, bless her deaf soul, would sleep right through it. Unless her husband accidentally kicked her in her kidneys. At which point the unlucky parent would attend to the hacking, snotty mess of a child.

Around Tuesday night, or it could have been two hours from now, Luca was wailing and coughing in his crib and I stumbled in. I withdrew him from his crib and found that he was in a super sick, still asleep but violently ill state. I brought him to the rocking chair in our room and tried to sooth him.

It didn’t work.

He got more and more agitated and tried to leap from my arms with increasing force.

Not knowing what else to do, I placed him on the floor. He began pacing around our bedroom, wailing and speaking in tongues. He was waving his arms and having an incoherent angry conversation with no one.

I was struck by the thought that this is what he will look like when he is an old man, angry at the space baseball that came crashing through his window.

Eventually, he crumbled to the floor and fell immediately asleep. I gathered him up in my arms and whispered in his ear, “You tell ‘em. Those kids shouldn’t have been on your property in the first place.”

No comments: