With The Boy having been ill twice recently the poor little soul has been a bit sad.
My normal happy chatty man has been withdrawn, glum and pained. You cannot help but feel sad when your child is poorly, or so I’ve found. My empathy gauge goes crazy.
This is especially the case when you’ve dished out as much medicine as you can, delivered comforting food and drink, and made your best effort to break cuddle records but nothing is quite enough. It’s heart wrenching and your helpless.
So when you get occasional moments of joy it’s like a drug rushing through you.
Recently, while ill, The Boy was slumped on the sofa looking glum and whimpering when his sister hit one of those pre-recorded tunes on the keyboard.
All of a sudden, a little smirk appeared on The Boy’s face and he did his characteristic little body twitch to the music. It was a miniscule little action but there, amongst the sadness of being ill, there was that joyful little boy I’m used to.
I could have squeezed him 😍