Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The Bucket Returns

There's something unnatural about seeing a sick Jack.  Like Ferrari up on blocks unnatural.  It's a weird kind of silence around the house, almost like he's gone to school.

This is very rare because of that whole mutant healing factor thing (I'm not really familiar with the medical details, but it sounds pretty neat).  But all the plutonium-fueled crazy is gone and replaced with a very morose and oddly calm little boy.  The foot long eyelashes look like they're finally about to win and slap those eyelids right down.

It was sudden.  I looked over in church Sunday night and saw The Dude just sacked out on the pew under Majesty's sweater.

I motioned for him to get up, because, y'know, I'm a complete idiot.  And you're supposed to sit up in church.  Those are the rules.  And again, I'm a complete idiot.  There was thankfully zero compliance.  I did get a "Leave me alone, old man," glance from Jack and one from H.M. with a message that I probably can't print.

So the bucket showed back up at the house for a few days, right beside him on the bed, as the little guy's skin just radiated.  Seriously, we could've used him to roast marshmallows.

Mmmm.  Marshmallows.

1 comment:

Roxanne said...

I hate for my babies to be sick, but I DO love the cuddles. Of course, I guess those are more "fun" when the illness is a cold and not upchucking.