Mr. Bossy

Poor Connor has been suffering over the past couple of weeks from a variety of illnesses. He is only just now recovering from a series of ailments whose cause was much less certain than the symptoms. On the early side of this, I'm afraid some rather impressive vomiting was involved. I'll spare you all the ugly details, but suffice to say Connor has not quite learned to keep himself out of the way of his barf. Not pretty.

The second half of the illness featured a fever that spiked at a shade over 106! This happened while they were at the doctors office as a matter of fact and the nurses were rather impressed, though not as alarmed as one might have expected. What's curious about Connor when he's sick is that our normally laid back second child turns into something of a Napoleon. When they got the 106 reading the nurses brought in some cold towels to cool him down. One might well imagine that this would feel good, but Connor did not like it one bit. Screamed his head off in fact. When he had endured this for a while, Sarah asked nicely him he would like them to take the towels off. "No," he replied angrily, "I want you to throw them in the trash. Gotcha.

He had been promised a lollipop to make for the indignities of being poked and prodded. The doctor, in a misguided attempt to be nice came in at some point, however, with the offer of a popsicle. He first politely declined, but when she insisted it might feel good to have something cold he said firmly, "No!!! I want a lollipop! And I'm taking one home for my brother Jamie!!" She took the popsicle away. Finally, as things were wrapping up, the doctor, who was extremely gentle and kind with Connor, was doing a few last things. Connor beheld her with a steely gaze and then turned to Sarah and said, as if the doctor weren't there, "When she gets out of here can we go home." He did not find this as amusing as Sarah and the doc.