There were grand plans for this evening. Words were going to be written (including ‘zest’, my current favourite and, possibly, ‘moist’, one of my all-time least favourites). Instead, I’m worried.
When they hand you a child, they don’t explain that they’re giving you the keys to the Kingdom of Worry forevermore. There’s no warning that you will spend long nights for the rest of your life wondering if that was a snore or a snort. Is that a life-threatening rash, or a blush? Is this a bullying episode, or a small skirmish among as-yet socially inept?
Tonight, Mr6 is red. Not itchy, but red. Not awake, but not really sleeping well. Hot and bothered. Moist, even. Alert and cheerful when he wakes to drink. What does it all mean? I tried the glass test on his redness, but realised I couldn’t remember what was supposed to happen under the glass. He seemed fine. I googled rashes and freaked myself out, sitting here by myself in a silent house.
So I must give up. Give in to the worry. Go and sleep in my little boy’s room, so I know that he’s okay. The work will have to wait again. Hopefully I’ll rediscover my zest for it tomorrow.
Cheer me up. What’s your favourite word at the moment – and your least favourite?
Update: Today is a new day, the rash is gone and all that’s left is a runny nose (him) and exhaustion (me). But I’m flogging my blog with Lori at RRSAHM, so pop over and check out the rest of the hop.