You must do nothing!

When Wren woke up this morning he had a stuffy nose and, despite his best efforts at excavation, he could not fix it. This made him sad&mad, a common state when you are almost 3.

I suggested we play but he lay, defeated, and said "no, you must DO NOTHING."

I lay down next to him and he was more sad&mad about that and said "do not do that you must do nothing."

I told him I thought that lying next to him was doing nothing.

"You are lying down" he observed.

I sat up, producing another paroxysm of complaint.

"You are sitting up. DO NOTHING," he insisted.

I was becoming exasperated. "Ok, I will go away for a bit."

"DO NOT GO AWAY." [head into pillow with some kicking] "Do nothing........ " [wailing]

At this point I decide He Is Sick Again and get the thermometer. Ok, I know this is not doing nothing as instructed but I had to check. He hates the ear probe thermometer so of course he screams and yells and says "My BRAIN IS SORE."

He has no temperature but now I fear meningitis, sinusitis or something else vile and 'itissy which I shall be forced to google and find only a Wikipedia stub and sad blogs about dead children.

I ask him to point where his brain hurts. He touches..... his chest - left side first and then right.

Huh - his heart? His lungs?

"When does it hurt?" (I'm thinking respiratory distress, pneumonia)

"It hurts HERE" (touching the middle and then rubbing around and around all over).

This is weird because he has not been coughing much and his chest was clear yesterday. At least we are getting somewhere [or doing SOMEthing].

I ask him to drink water. He refuses. I tell him that the water will make the stuff in his nose slide away (there is no visible snot but yesterday the doctor confirmed my suspicion that Wren is dehydrated. He is eating up a storm but not drinking.) He drinks a bit. He sniffs suspiciously and Hallelujah, his nose is improved.

He sniffs. His nose snorts a bit. He says "A water did go deep inside and it is not in my nose now!" He needs some more. Apparently he has figured that once the water goes deep inside its healing properties are reduced. He drinks A LOT.

I tell him it is Halloween Today and he suggests we read a Halloween book. After various colossal failures on my part (stupid stupid stupid to think that a book about bones is a Halloween Book, or a book about a 'gyptian mummy is a Halloween Book or a book about fuzzy bats is a Halloween Book) we look at I Spy Spooky Night.

Something is done. The day starts, anew.

Wren needs to pee.

Hallelujah. Halloween.