Saturday morning I wake up pumped for a day with just Luke and I. I go to get him and the poor kid is miserable. He's got a nose that is running like a faucet and he's crabby as all get out. No fever, but a clingy guy nonetheless. After dealing with craptastic naps and fighting him to use the nose sucker all day, I was sad that the day hadn't turned out quite like I planned and was ready for Keith to get home.
Sunday was basically a repeat of Saturday's events, but with the extra added bonus of Keith's constant state of freak out that Luke wasn't eating nearly as much as he typically does. Duh sweetheart! He doesn't feel well! I'm still trying to convince Keith that Luke will survive the few days that he's sick without eating the amount of food you feel necessary. I finally had to make a deal with Keith today that while Luke is sick and can't breathe through his nose, he can't stuff the amazing amounts of food in Luke's mouth at one time that is typical for him. Poor Luke's mouth was stuffed so full tonight that food was falling out when he opened his mouth to breathe. Sad.
Tonight after Luke's bath as we were getting him ready for bed, he was fussing again. I happened to look into his mouth and was able to count 5 brand-spankin' new teeth popping through in his little mouth, one of them being his first molar. No wonder he's been such a sour puss the past three days. I think his mouth is making up for being a slow starter in the teeth department; since they didn't come earlier, apparently now he thinks he needs to play catch-up to get them all in at once.