You Be Illin'

The Wolf woke up sick, today. Inexplicably. He was fine--excellent even--yesterday. Today, he had a fever of 103F for a good hunk of the day. We dosed him with Tylenol and tried to keep him hydrated. A good hunk of his calories today were chocolate milk.

By mid-morning, we thought we had him under control enough to go to breakfast. We headed to one of our favorite brunch spots, the Busboys & Poets location in Hyattsville. It was a somewhat damp but nice morning and we opted to sit outside. The hostess put us as close to the main road as we could get and not actually be in the road. We were a little puzzled by this, but hell.

We go to this spot about once a month, but it has been less often of late. The last few outings haven't been stellar. There weren't any screaming problems, just rough edges. A muffin was stale, they didn't bring the side order of eggs, they forgot to refill coffee.

Today wasn't terribly busy. It was busy, just not terribly. We sat and entertained the kid, commented on the fumes and noise from the road, people-watched. And waited. About 25 minutes later, we hadn't seen a server within about 50 feet of our table and no one had come to get our drinks order or anything. So we left. We walked down to Franklin's, where we were seated immediately and the friendly people took our order. They don't do breakfast, but it was already almost noon, so we just opted for light lunch options.

Unfortunately, by this time the Wolf was beyond his comfort level, his fever was creeping back up, and Everything Was Wrong, so we had to box all the food up and head home. It could have been worse, but it really kind of ruined the day.

The kid was up and down all day, and we just put him to bed without a whimper--he was just exhausted. We spent most of the day watching TV and snacking on whatever was around.

It's rough when the Wolf is sick, and he's been sick a lot. He was born early and has a sensitive immune system. His lungs aren't super strong because they weren't as developed as they could have been when he had to start using them. He just goes from hero to zero really really fast. It's hard to watch. All his hilarious vibrant sweetness becomes a long, sour, flat note on a viola, dragged out for hours.

He's also had a share of injuries this week. He headbutted my knee when trying to climb over the dog the other night. He faceplanted on the stairs of a slide at the park and scraped up his chin. Some kid at daycare got into a tantrum and clawed up his pretty face. Throw in his general paperwhite paleness and he looks like a hockey bruiser coming in after a particularly long bender.

Poor Wolfie. At least chicks still dig scars, amirite?