These past few days my body ached.
It seemed my fever would never plummet.
My body felt hell for several hours and a few days.
Although I asked him to stay out of my room he sat in his little red chair most of the day.
He ran my hot water and walked me to the bathroom.
And again he sat outside the bathtub in his little red chair.
He would call out my name just to make sure I was conscious.
He grabbed me my towel and promised he wasn’t looking.
I shivered uncontrollably and he was there to hold my hand.
He put on my socks and took off my covers.
“Grandma said no covers.”
“But I’m cold baby.”
“Sorry Mommy. But that just makes your fever worst.”
No arguing there.
He ran washcloths in cold, cold water.
And he placed them on my forehead.
He’d make me check my fever almost every hour.
He sat there and played his game console, when he was weary he laid at the end of my bed.
He didn’t leave my sight the entire weekend.
He made me a sandwich, or at least attempted to do so.
“I’m your tiny chef Mom.”
And other dishes whose ingredients I’m still unaware of.
My fever reached its crest at 104.3 degrees and the fury was visible even in my eyes.
“Mom your eyes are very red. I can fix that.”
He skipped to the kitchen and came back with some eye drops.
He dropped two or three into each eye.
And then he was back on my bed.
And this went on Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.
He noticed that after my doctors visit I was a little bit better.
So yesterday evening he went outside and played with his cousins for a while.
He deserved it.
He took care of me.
And he’s only Seven years old.
It just meant so much to me.
The tiny boy with the big heart makes me fall in love with him more and more everyday.