I was settled into my preferred spot at the Mother Ship this morning, alternately (carefully) sipping my coffee and crocheting my latest work in progress, when Brady messaged me from school to say that he didn't feel well. I asked if he wanted to go home, and he said maybe, but he wanted to wait to see if he'd continue to feel bad. That sounded reasonable to me --especially since it was coming from the mind of a 13-year old-- so we left it at that.
When we got home, he went up to his room, and when I checked on him a little later, I found him curled up in bed, asleep. I watched him for a minute and then snapped a quick photo because the sight of him cuddled against his narwhal Squishmallow was just too sweet.
No one likes feeling sick, but it's a blessing to me to be able to take care of my babies when they're under the weather. After all, they don't stay young for very long.
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