The Boy wound up spiking another fever over the weekend, high enough that we were more than a little concerned. He's also sporting a nice, healthy-looking roseola rash all over himself, particularly his face. His body looks like he colored all over himself with red dots - and, before you ask, he didn't. We checked. Plus, at this point in his life, he'd be trying to connect the dots.
Sigh. The poor kid can't catch a break. He's still got a 100-degree fever, although his symptoms (according to our pediatrician) are following the textbook progression of roseola.
And, yes, I'm still happy and glad that high fevers are being diagnosed by our pediatrician and not a combination of oncology and emergency room. It's a relief, no doubt.
Last night was just a brutal night for all of us. The Boy woke up at around 2AM, and was kicking us both in that particular toddler way: trying to snuggle us with his feet by jamming them in our back, stomachs, down our pajama pants... Combine that with tossing and turning, sitting up and asking for water, sitting up and asking to go to the bathroom. Long story short, he was awake until 4:30AM.
This was also a morning that I had work as usual, and The Wife was substitute teaching. So, neither one of us could actually spare the sleep to deal with him. I actually got up and left around 4AM, to try to catch my last hour before my usual 5:20 wakeup - I went into the spare bedroom and slept.
If he keeps it up, he can have our bed. We'll sleep on the trundle bed in the room with Little Bear.
On a funny note, Little Bear was left unattended for about 90 seconds earlier today. He went into the kitchen, found a box of cereal, went into a drawer, pulled out a plate, then poured some cereal onto the plate, climbed up onto a chair, and ate the cereal until he was discovered. What a precocious kid! Why do I have a feeling that, when he discovers my toolbox, I'm going to come home from work one day to find my television set lying in pieces?