Tuesday morning the boy woke up around four-thirty, gasping and calling for me. When I got to his room he was sitting up in bed, fighting tears.

“Mama, I can’t breathe right,” he said.

This has happened often enough now that I don’t panic. I pulled out the mask and both inhalers, and told him to take a deep breath. As he did, he started coughing a deep, resonant cough.

Yup, I thought. The asthma’s a flag for a chest cold. Here we go.

The deep barky cough didn’t come often; maybe once a half-hour. But I called preschool anyway to let them know he wasn’t coming in, and that knowing how his colds go he’d probably be home all week. Tuesday was okay; we went out to get him a new puzzle, and did the groceries together. He was just sick enough to not go to school in order to keep from spreading germs, but nowhere sick enough to actually be quiet or restful at home. By Wednesday evening, though, I was chafing, because my work was piling up and he wanted to be at school with his friends instead of at home with me. His educator called me yesterday and she said that if he was the same — no fever, no runny nose, just the occasional dry cough — to bring him in on Thursday. And we would have done it, too, except late yesterday afternoon his nose began to run heavily. So today HRH stayed home, bless him, because I’ve already lost two days of work, and it’s only fair that he take a day off, too, so that my work week isn’t entirely torpedoed. Grandma e-mailed to see if he was on for their traditional last-Friday-of-the-month-together day, and so he’s covered for Friday, too.

Things we have learned or rediscovered over the past two days:

1. If the boy is left to decide when we go out, we will spend the entire day at home… until he remembers that I said we could go to the bookstore, at which point he will make a fuss because we haven’t gone yet. This point will usually happen when there isn’t enough time left to get to the bookstore before we’d have to turn around and come right back home for lunch and nap, or dinner.

2. Star Wars: Episode One, when seen through the eyes of a four-year-old, isn’t nearly as awful as it was when seen through the eyes of a critical twenty-nine year old.

3. It is great fun to surprise a sick child with a toy that he doesn’t expect. It’s just as much fun to build up a friend’s legend by ascribing the gift of said toy to someone other than oneself. (The X-wing MLG passed along to him was, and I quote, “The coolest gift ever.“)

4. The last quarter of the day is the hardest for everyone.

5. It is possible for an energetic four year-old to sit quietly in my office with me if he has a pile of art supplies and scrap paper, but not for long, and not often enough.

6. I can spin while the boy is here; I cannot write or edit. It’s a different kind of work, as I build up my saleable yarn. Unfortunately the boy always wants to “help,” which doesn’t.

7. Sitting down and sharing lunch together is really nice.

I only lost my temper once, just before HRH got home Wednesday evening. I know, I know; anger leads to the dark side. But it was in response to careless play with a lightsabre that ended in me being hit across the face and my glasses being knocked off because someone wasn’t paying attention, looking in the opposite direction entirely. The lightsabre was very firmly grabbed, pulled out of the offender’s grasp, and sent none too gently to the other side of the room while the offender was informed that he wasn’t getting it back for another day, as he obviously couldn’t play responsibly with it.

The landlord was supposed to show up yesterday to finish plastering and sanding the hole in the bedroom wall, but he didn’t, which also contributed to my grumpiness because I really needed to nap but instead stayed awake watching for him because I didn’t want him to wake the boy once he’d gone down for his nap. After dinner I had a massive headache, was exhausted, and really wanted to play hooky from orchestra but soldiered on, and I’m glad I did, as things went pretty well for me. I’m going to have to look at specific places with my teacher at this week’s lesson, though; I just can’t get some of the faster runs with the proper bowing.

To my intense astonishment, the Coopworth actually spins up and finishes all right. It’s fine in fingering weight two-ply, navajo-plied sock weight, and bulky weight single. It must be the finishing process. I’m stunned. I still wouldn’t sell it for full price, but a seconds category in the shop isn’t a bad idea; a sort of catch-all category for for things that didn’t quite work out, or were made from sub-par fibre.

Lovely fluffy snow happening out there right now. A very nice change from the dismal, grey overcast light we’ve had for so long. Snow brightens everything up.