If nothing else, preschool has done a good job at getting Logan's immune system some heavy duty work-outs. He's battling another round of massive tissue box destruction. Fevers. Aches. Goopey gross nose. Another visit to the doctor. Another round of antibiotics and miscellaneous meds.
His first dose of his latest prescription started last night. He doesn't fight taking the antibiotic. The rest of it, sometimes; the antibiotic not ever. We've got him convinced he needs to get the "little soldiers" into his body to fight the bad germs. That and a few well timed bribes are keeping him nicely medicated.
After a few chewable acetaminophen tablets and a shot of chalky looking antibiotic - coming on the heels of a healthy nap and some dinner - Logan was displaying more energy than he had in two days.
"I have an idea!" he said, as he often does. "Let's play monkey in the middle."
He volunteered to be the monkey. Daddy knelt on one side. I on the other. We tossed the ball gently over his head. (Oh hush. Yes I know some day I will regret the whole ball in the house thing. However, if it keeps the sick whiney kid happy, i'm all for it.) He tried hard to catch it. He didn't. Something about keeping "an" eye on the ball wasn't working for him.
Megan climbed on my lap and announced it was hug time. Daddy got up to let the dog out. The Monkey had the ball. He was still looking to play. He tossed it hard somewhere in my vicinity. He missed by a mile and the ball was lost in the toy clutter behind me.
"It's gone now," I said, some what annoyed he tried to take my head off with a flat tennis ball.
"I have an idea!" he said again. The boy would snap his fingers as he says it if he knew how. He at least gets the index finger high in the air instead. "Let's be detectives and look for it."
We looked. Me half-heartedly. Him all sorts of Sam Spade. (Or maybe, more like Nate the Great).
It was bath time. Hunt was called off. Daddy headed off to let the dog back in. I rose to herd Megan to her bath. Logan scrunched up his face in disgust.
"But guys! We haven't found it yet!" he protested.
"Logan, we can't find it. It's gone," said Daddy.
"No way. I never quit!" he declared.
So fine, we said, keep looking. Or look in the morning, it's bath time, story time, bed time.
He didn't put up too much of a fuss. He agreed that perhaps we needed a break so we could be better detectives in the morning. I helped him with his bath. Daddy read him his stories. I walked into his dark room to kiss him good night just after his head hit his pillow.
He sat up slightly and looked at me - the little eyes clearly staring at me in the not-totally dark night-light lit room. "Mommy, don't you feel bad?" he asked with the unabashed sincerity only a young child can muster.
"Feel bad for what?" I asked him.
"For giving up."
"I didn't give up Logan, I took a break," I said in my defense.
He nodded and smiled as he closed his eyes and put his head back down to his pillow. I kissed my private eye good night and started to leave his room.
"Mommy," he said without lifting his head or opening his eyes, "Don't ever quit."
Both kids are sound asleep now. Bruce has headed off to bed. I took in the last few minutes of a documentary that had my attention and then dropped a few odds and ends in the assorted catch-all baskets around the living room. I heard his little voice in my head "Don't ever quit."
Peering under the blanket chest. No ball.
Looking behind and in the puzzle basket. No ball.
Nudging the sleeping beast of a dog over a bit to look behind her favorite spot. No ball.
Reaching around Meg's toy basket. Jackpot! Wedged between the stuffed Elmo and forgotten bear was the missing ball.
I'm heading off to bed now. I'm going to leave our treasure on his night stand. If I thought he'd bother to read it, I'd even leave him a note:
Mommy never quits.