I was miserable late yesterday afternoon, and last night was worse. I either had a very bad system-wide reaction to something I ate, or had something gastro-like. It’s possible that it was related to the boy’s two separate episodes of illness last week (well, we thought they were separate, anyway) but whatever the origin, I’m just thankful it’s pretty much over. This morning it’s the traditional morning-after-the-night-before breakfast of tea and crackers, which is what I had for dinner last night, too.

The kicker is that I dreamed of making peanut butter marshmallow squares, so I woke up craving them. I don’t have butterscotch chips, or even chocolate chips to substitute. It’s probably a good thing.

The boy was very solicitous of my health yesterday. When I tottered out of my bedroom to read him a story before bedtime he met me and took my hand, patting it and saying, “It’s okay, Mama. I know your tummy hurts. Mine does sometimes, too. We’ll just go get you a couple of crackers, and that will help make things better.” Then he took me into the kitchen and opened the pantry, I got down a box of crackers, and we shared some. When I’d read him his story he turned to me and said very seriously, “Now, Mama, if you have to be sick, just run to the bathroom. You don’t have to be scared; I’ll be with you, and I’ll hold your hand, okay?” He was adorable; his tone was so serious and soothing. I loved it. I think we’re doing okay with this kid. He told me very proudly how he helped with one of the new babies yesterday, Sophia (nicknamed Kiki), and how he was officially at the Big Kid Table. HRH told me later that he’d had a couple of unsure moments at preschool, where he was evidently struggling with the very exciting ‘I’m a big kid and I take care of others and help the teachers’ concept while trying to integrate it into the ‘but I’m a little kid too’ reality. Apparently there were tears at one point, and when asked what was wrong he said, “I miss my dad,” which we think was shorthand for needing a reminder that yes, he was still a kid, and he wasn’t responsible for everything. It’s hard to integrate new responsibilities; there’s a lot going on internally with the whole self-consciousness and self-esteem and establishing one’s place in the world, forging new definitions and associations for interpersonal relations.

Today I’m planning to take things easy. I may cast on my lace scarf. I may knit some more rounds in my sweater. I’m certainly not going to work at the computer; sitting here is uncomfortable and hurts both my stomach and my head. I’ll read, and doze.