Four years ago today, just ticks past midnight our little "bubba", Jack, was born. I remember thinking when I first saw him, "His nostrils are so tiny!". Odd thought, I know. But he just had a button of a nose, and I couldn't imagine how any air could possibly squeeze through those micro-nostrils.
This morning Jack came into my room and crawled in bed with me, wheezing and coughing all over his mama's pillow. Little did I know how prophetic my thoughts on his birth day would be. The poor little guy is sick on his birthday, with chest cold induced asthma. (Something we have struggled with since he was born). I felt so bad for him - but he is taking it in stride. We've been doing the usual nebulizer treatments for the last two days to help him out.
The bright spots in his morning so far has been:
1) One present we let him open (a time telling clock from Nana)
2) Daddy brought home left over doughnuts from his morning Bible Study, which triggered a moment caught on camera of sensory overload -
3) He also had the treat of watching a real show on TV (something we don't do often) when he had his morning nebulizer treatment. We offered a trip to Chuckee-Cheese for dinner, but he's turned us down on our offer so far. We're working on him.
We are trying to make "grumpy gills" as happy as possible, reminding him how much he is the big 4 now. Tomorrow we have a party with kids at his favorite park for him, so say a few prayers that he'll be feeling a bit better tomorrow.
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