Closeness in Sickness

I love how honest kids are sick. Austin vomited at 11:00 in the middle of the night on Thursday. Gayle and I rushed to his room to find him covered in it, crying with a high fever. Gayle, bless her soul, cleaned Austin's bed and clothes on the spot while I cleaned up Austin in the bathroom and changed his clothes. Having been comforted, he immediately returned to his normal sweet self, asking if it was dark outside, and if mommy and I were going to go to sleep too. As I sat on the toilet with my feverishly sweaty boy, asking me questions about darkness, I knew that moment that it was a precious one, one that he'll quickly outgrow. Austin woke up Saturday morning just fine, and we went to the lake and had a great day. Then Sunday morning, he woke up feverish again. We'd give him Tylenol to calm the fever, and you could see his mood change as the Tylenol pulsed his veins. Literally, in 30 minutes, he'd go from moaning on the couch to wanting to play soccer. During the times that his fever bugged him, he clinged to me in a way that made me want to do nothing but comfort him. But when his fever broke, he was his adventurous, happy, funny self. Tonight I put Austin to bed, 20 or 30 minutes after his fever had clearly returned. After I completed the first song, certain that Austin was melting into the covers, he instead asserted "I have to brush my teeth." So we brushed his teeth, and then returned to cuddling and singing on the bed. While Austin usually asks me to sing any song he knows (and I'm pretty sure that Austin knows more words to more songs than me now - no joke), tonight after the third song he said "I want you to go away now. I'm going to go to sleep." Austin wasn't being mean, or selfish, he was just being honest. He was ready for me to leave to he could go to sleep. How do I know? Because before I left the room, he turned, as has been his practice for the last month after we put him to bed, and said "Thank you." "Thank you." Until I said "You're welcome buddy."