When They Hurt, You Hurt

I knew something wasn't right when I came home tonight and my 3 year old wasn't screaming at the top of her lungs. My wife informed me that Jillian's belly hurt. I did not think anything of it - I just figured she was hungry or had to poop (that usually fixes it with my kids).

As it turns out she had gotten a little worse as the night progressed. In fact, she did not fight me when I told her to sit on the step for her half-hearted attempt at hitting her sister. I looked into her eyes and could tell she was feeling lousy. So, I checked her temperature and we got a 102. We gave her some medicine and snuggled with her, and her fever broke right before bed. She was back down to good old 98.6.

Throughout the night, I felt terrible for her. There wasn't a whole lot more we could do for her. It pained us to see her suffering like she was - it always does. Anytime one of my children suffers, even if it is a goofy splinter, a little something inside of me suffers along with them. It really is too bad that kisses cannot make all of there boo-boos all better.