Thursday, September 06, 2007
Benjamin's asthma is back. It was so bad the other night that he started throwing up his Fruity Cheerios he had for dinner. If you are asking yourself, did she just say he had Fruity Cheerios for dinner?, the answer is, Yes, we are bad parents. In any case, he coughed uncontrollably until the Cheerios and milk and bile ended up all over the blue sheet on his bed. Ryan cleaned it up because I was in the middle of a chat with my online students, and I have to have precision concentration and typing speeds of well over 100 to keep up with those chats. After the chat was over at 10pm, I got Ben up from his room and hugged him while we nebulized him with his medication. Then I let him sleep with me. He lay next to me in the room for awhile staring at the ceiling, and then he began looking intensely at his hands, turning them back and forth back and forth as if he were on an acid trip. Then he made his hands slide down the pillow like they were on the playground. Then he made his hands talk to each other and, finally, kiss. Then he took a deep, happy sigh and smiled to himself with satisfaction. This is what Ben must do for a really long time before he falls to sleep each night. At about 4:30 in the morning he woke up screaming, Milk, Milk, Milk, Milk, Milk. I told him, No Ben, it's time for bed, and he starting crying like a baby, Wah, Wah, Wah...It went on and on. So I told him he needed to go back to bed--at this point foolishly believing I'd actually get more sleep--and he kept crying and crying until he woke up Elliott who started screaming himself. Ryan took them both downstairs and let me sleep from 5:45 to 6:20 and then we were all up for the day. After Ben got his milk downstairs, he gulped it down in seconds and said, Miiiiiillllllk, emphasizing that final K. This kid is stubborn as hell.