Remember my son? We call him the Monster in these parts.
He'll be 2 next month. TWO YEARS OLD. My BABY. He just turned 1 last week.
Anyway. Croup.
Or as I like to call it, The Croup.
Text message conversation between me and Ashley last week:
Her: "A. [that's her daughter] has croup."
Me: "What? Croup? Who is she, Louisa May Alcott??"
Her: "Croup is a modern day disease! You're thinking of cholera. Or the dropsy."
Me: "No way, dude. Kids in Little Women and Anne of Green Gables were always getting The Croup."
Me (after some fancy google work): "Croup was once a deadly disease caused by diphtheria bacteria. However, modern day antibiotics and immunizations have helped prevent or treat it. Today, most cases of croup are mild. See? Kids in old books were always dying of The Croup."
Her: "Well. There you go."
Naturally, after all of this, my son woke up the next morning burning with fever and barking like a baby seal.
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| Baby seal photo added for visual interest. Isn't he cute?? I'm sure he doesn't have croup, don't worry. |
Of course our entire family was concerned and sympathetic. I stayed home from work for 3 days to cradle him and love him and let him give me slobbery croup-germy kisses.
When he wasn't coughing, he was breathing like Darth Vader. It was pitiful. And it led his loving big sister to initiate conversations like this:
"MONSTER!" [She didn't really call him that, you guys. She called him by his actual name.] "STOP IT!"
Me: "Honey, he's not doing it on purpose. He's SICK. Leave him alone."
Her: "No, mom. He keeps BREATHING and it's really LOUD and ANNOYING."
Me: "I know. He's sick, he can't help it. Please stop yelling at him."
Her: "He looked RIGHT at me and then he started breathing LOUDER. Make him STOP."
In conclusion. Don't call your friends' kids Louisa May Alcott when they get weird old-timey diseases, and also don't have a mouthy 6-year-old daughter. You're welcome.
