A Lucid Moment

Sick boy.
Fever for nearly a week now.
103 this afternoon.
Lethargic, cranky, demanding.
Fell asleep watching Franklin (gasp).
Bribed to take Tylenol (please, please baby!).
Fever breaking.
Sweaty hair.
Covers kicked off.
More tears.
Crying ball of despair.
Do you want momma to run you a bath?
Yes please, but carry me up.
Please momma my whole skin hurts.
That's too cold.
That's too hot.
Can you wash my back?
Oh. That feels warm.
Sigh.
Momma?
Does your skin hurt when you are sick?
Yep, when I have a fever my whole body hurts.
Momma?
Is snot like throw up that comes out your nose?
Something like that.
Momma?
What baby?
You're doing a good job taking care of me.
Thanks buddy.
Momma?
Mmm-hmmm.
I always love you, but sometimes I get angry at you too.
I know.
Momma?
Yes?
Sometimes you don't give me lots of attention.
No?
Sometimes you don't always play with me.
You're right.
Does that make you angry?
Yes.
Momma?
Hmmm?
I don't like it when we fight.
Me neither, buddy.
It hurts my feelings.
I'm sorry.
Momma?
Momma, I don't like being sick.
I don't like you being sick either.
But I appreciate you playing nice with me tonight.
I'm glad.
Should we pinky promise to play nice all days?
Absolutely.
I love you best, Momma.
I love you best too, Liam.