His temperature started climbing a little yesterday after a few days of growing grumpiness. We initially put it down to the pre-school vaccination booster he had last week but, after a rough, sweaty night and a morning of lethargy, stroppiness and complaints of stomach pains, we called the GP.
All known logic told us that this was just a bit of a bug - Calpol and Nurofen brought the temperature down and perked the little guy up enough for him to complain about his cars not being parked JUST SO. We managed to keep his temperature down like that a couple of years ago too - look where that got us.
I kept reassuring Nik that it was nothing to fret about - I have fully adopted that gender stereotypical approach, seeking to pacify and play down at all times.
I did that one night a couple of years ago too.
In short, any parental instincts we had with regard to extent of illness or magnitude of emergency are pretty deeply undermined. It isn't as bad as it was but a slight temperature shouldn't leave one of you crying and the other scouring the internet for obscure diseases.
Perhaps there is some hope for us though. I haven't completely forgotten being a kid... and because I now need to be extra sure (and to reassure) I can't just let him lie back in front of the TV. I have begun to suspect that young Tom is not completely without guile. If he's being asked if something hurts, he will find a couple of imaginary grazes that require a plaster or prehaps the need for some restorative ice cream for internal aches and pains.
So we pitched his tent in the living room and sure enough, Tom had the energy to grab his sleeping bag, pack his rucksack with his torch and giraffe and make like a camper, all accompanied with his usual, excited running commentary. And there was a little relief from the anxiety and the past could be returned to its rightful place once more.
Tom's asleep now. He's running a little too warm still and I'm afraid Nik won't sleep well but he's going to be OK. Deep down somewhere, we think we know that.