Apollo was pretty sick last week. His temperature hit 104.5 a couple times and Motrin would not bring it down to less than 101. He also had a bad cough. You feel so helpless. Apollo would open up his eyes and look at me with the most pathetic look, reach for me and say "Daaadaaa." in a very sad week little voice. I know all he wanted was for me to make him feel better. It is very heart wrenching. We took Apollo to see the doctor twice. The first time Melanie went by herself with Apollo and Stevie, an 8 month old baby that she has been baby sitting. The second time I went with them. Apparently, Melly wanted a second opinion. No, not from a second doctor, but from the same doctor that saw Apollo the first time. The doctor received a second opinion...and then a third...and then a forth...and several more. I stopped counting after a while and was looking for a place to bury my head in the sand. You see, when Melanie took Apollo in to see the doctor the day before she felt like he just blew her off. We were worried about Apollo as he was breathing really fast and had a high fever, and not eating. Not that he was really around while we were de-micing the motor home (see my previous post), but I know Melanie kept hearing her moms voice echoing in her head; "HANTA VIRUS!!!!". She expressed this concern to the doctor and he agreed that it was possible, but not probable that he was exposed to Hanta, and then said he is going to be fine, and sent them home with out even really doing an exam. Keep in mind that Apollo was screaming this whole time and there was not a whole lot he could do except say, "Well he is screaming, that means he is breathing. I think he will be fine."
I was happy to get back into our night time routine which typically goes like this:
Between 9 and 9:30 pm, Apollo begins to ask for his "baba" (bottle). That is my queue that it is bed time. I fill his bottle with about 4 ounces of milk. We make our way into the living room to find mom watching T.V. and say, "gooooodniiight" and give mom a kiss.
"Apollo, take dada to bed now" I call to him. He trots over, grabs my hand and walks me to our...yes, our bedroom, (Apollo still sleeps with his mom and dad). We make our way into the bathroom to brush our teeth. As I prepare our tooth brushes, Apollo climbs onto a chair in the bathroom and then onto the counter. I hand him his tooth brush and then grab mine. Now this part he definitely got from his mom; as he brushes, he wiggles his whole body back and forth. He looks like a bobble head doll! Super cute! When finished, he gets down on his knees on the counter and positions his head under the sink for a drink. "Aaaaaah!" As, I grab him from the counter,he turns to the faucet that just quenched his thirst, "Gooood niiight, juice." and waves. (All liquid is 'juice' at this point) We get into bed; "Baba?". 'Here you go little guy' "BABAAAA!"...Now, at this point a good baby would fall asleep. We do not have a good baby. Some times, we watch Shrek 2, Cars, or Bee Movie or at least a portion of them. Other nights, we have song time. When Apollo starts to get fussy, that is the queue to turn off the movie which sometimes involves a couple minutes of tears. Then the last phase of our bed time ritual begins.
"Baba?"'No baba...sleep'
"Cookie?"
'No, cookie.'
"Apple?"
'No Apple, silly. Its time to sleep.'
"Pake?"
'No Pancake either.'
"EAT!...please?"
'No eat, its time to sleep.'
"Dada?...."
A good night, indeed.
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