At the end of our trip, you came down with a horrible cold, which you generously shared with your parents.
You are an absolute BEAR when sick. Nothing we do can please you. You cry for us to come help you, then you scream at us to leave when we open your bedroom door. Right now I'm typing this post while listening to you cry pitifully and yell "No, no, no," through the monitor. It takes every fiber of my being to not run back to you, but you made it abundantly clear that you were not ready to deal with me this morning and would much prefer to be left alone in your crib. You do not ask, whine or whimper - you scream. You are terribly, horribly angry at this illness and the world will know. You want your routine back desperately, but I can't give you routine when you sleep until 11am and spend 3 hours picking at your breakfast. I dare not take you out in public when I can't predict what will set off your epic meltdowns. I am trying not to take it personally and I want to nurture you back to health, but I miss my child of the sweet voice and hugs, so please give him back soon.
I write this post partially for your future spouse or partner. Take note, there will be no Florence Nightingale-type wiping of the Nugget's brow, no snuggling together on the couch while he recovers from a cold. Instead, I'd make sure the Nugget has everything he needs in arm's reach of his bed, and don a helmet if you are required to enter his room.
I love you, Nugget. Get well soon.