Sad Little Drewbie

My dear little Drew got sick yesterday. My boys don't get sick very often, and, as I've stated in previous posts, I think it's because they share so much with our dog. They let him lick their food before they eat it, they dip their cups in his water dish and take a drink, they've even helped themselves to his food a time or two. Anyway, sick he was yesterday, and I felt so sorry for him.

Drew seemed just fine when he woke up from his nap. We put shoes on and hopped in the car to go check out the sale at the fabric store, which is going out of business.* We went to the dryer parts store first, to get a little part for our broken dryer. Then we went to the fabric store and looked at all the great clearance items. They were selling everything, from threads, cloths and buttons, to the wall fixtures the stuff was being displayed on. It was an Everything Must Go! kind of sale. Well, in the midst of looking through spools of ribbon and picking up all the ones Owen hurled onto the floor, I heard Drew start whining really softly. Very unusual for Drew, whose preferred method of getting attention is to scream. He started whining a little louder, and by the time I had made my selections and was paying for them, he was almost in tears. He looked so pathetic.

On our way home, we stopped at Wendy's to grab some burgers. I gave the boys each a french fry to eat on the way home, and Owen, in typical fashion, said "Mum" as soon as his was gone, so I gave him another. I offered one to Drew, but he didn't take it so I ate it (couldn't let it go to waste). At the stoplight, I turned around to see if he'd like another fry, and he wouldn't even look at me. When we got home, I discovered that he hadn't even eaten the first one. He kept yawning, so I just put him to bed.

Drew woke up from his second nap of the day burning up. I took his temperature, and it was 102. So I gave him some Infant Tylenol and some water. Sweet little Owen gave him a cracker, which was a generous gesture, because he usually only shares if I tell him to. Drew just sat on the couch and sipped water and whimpered for about 25 minutes. Then, as I was calling my mom to request advice, he started screaming. Ol' generous Owen had stolen his water. I guess Owen figured Drew was feeling better by then, which he was. His temperature dropped to 99, and he started looking at his animal book and making all the noises the farm animals make.

It was a mysterious little illness; I'm glad it didn't last, because he was miserable. And so far, he's been just fine today, too.

*David always wonders what I get so excited about fabric stores for. And he's always surprised that they stay in business as long as they do. And yet, he called me yesterday on his way to work and told me that this store was having a sale, and that I should go check it out and see if they had anything I need. I could write a whole post about my experience at that store yesterday. Those ladies working there were so condescending and impatient. The vibe I got from them was that you have to be over 60 to know anything about sewing and crafts. But I'm still going back again, hopefully without Drew and Owen, 'cause there were some great buys there that I didn't have a chance to snag.