Evan's been running a fever, so we've been trying to keep up with the fluids, ibuprofin, etc. Last night I went to check on him before I went to bed and he felt like a little furnace. He was at ~103F.
He's not showing any other bad signs, like spaced-outitude or severe lethargy, which would be red flags, and the book says that fevers aren't really bad for toddlers until 107F.
But we still worry. Fortunately, a cold washcloth and some ibuprofin worked right away last night. Evan is such a dear. I found this note on my pillow this morning:
"Dearest father, thank you for taking the time to disturb my restful slumber and oust me from my comfortable bed to strip my clothing, place cold wet things on my forehead, and force medicine down my throat. The fleeting discomfort pales next to the gratitude I feel for your care and concern about my well being. Shall we schedule this as a regular occasion? Perhaps we could combine it with a haircut?"
The fever was down a bit this morning.
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