Trapped

If you need to go through the grieving process, I highly recommend bringing along Luca Hamann.   His delightful chatter about Rescue Bots this and Rescue Bots that kept me from sliding into the abyss last week.  I didn’t want to leave his side for one single solitary minute until he wouldn’t let me leave his side.

Towards the end of the week, a terrible cold ravaged our house.  Everyone was hacking and coughing and generally miserable.  Luca got it worst of all.  On Friday, he ran a terrible fever and his eyes crusted over with goop. 

I buried him with blankets on our couch and told him he could watch as much TV as his goopy eyes would allow.  He did pretty well, with the exception of not letting me leave the couch.

He required that I sit next to him the entire day.  Every time I’d rise to, oh I don’t know, go to the bathroom, he’d shriek sickly, “No Dada!  Don’t leave me!!!!”

That was all well and good because I didn’t really feel like doing anything besides get caught up on the Rescue Bots TV show.  But at around 3pm Luca got so sick he couldn’t even watch TV and demanded we turn it off.

I was trapped.

I just sat there, listening to Luca’s cold germs make their Oregon Trail-esc trip across the couch towards my orifices. 

Every time I tried to make my escape from the couch, Luca would spring up and hysterically cry at my betrayal.  I would tell him, no, I was no actually trying to leave.  I was just testing out this side of the couch.  Yep.  Still springy.

I had to get our neighbor to pick Eli up from school because I couldn’t figure out how to get our couch to and from Main Street. 

Eventually, I got Luca to agree to move to his bed, where he slept fitfully and feverously.  With me by his side the entire night.