Yesterday bear didn't want to go to school and was feeling poorly. Reluctantly I kept him off, but it was the right decision as over the course of the day bear's temperature crept up until by the time DH came home bear was flaked out and dozing on the sofa. He was really bad, poor kid, and he does run a temperature well. He always has. Over the years a lot of health care professionals have taken his temperature, double checked and looked very worried while bear tootled around. It is still unnerving watching him bright cheeked and burning up with paracetamol and ibuprofen not really denting the fever.
Last night I slept on the fold out bed next to him as I was so worried. DH shared my worries and insisted I call him if things got worse. It wasn't a comfortable night, at one point bear was shouting out in his sleep and he woke at 3am after a nightmare. However at 7am bear sat up, said brightly, 'I feel much better' and has been catching up with his sugar consumption. Yesterday he couldn't face eating chocolate. He can today.
Yesterday I caved and added £5 per month to our bills and got BT Sport. We already have BT Infinity, and it has been wonderful. Bear has become strongly attached to soccer and Liverpool FC. It has been odd. For the first years of his life bear has utterly rejected soccer. He doesn't do soccer, it is nothing to do with him, he loathes it. Suddenly this summer bear has become soccer mad and I have lost count of the balls that have been lost to the wilderness behind Matalan. Yesterday he was flaked out watching a match on tv.
Father loved soccer, had been in the same director's box as Bill Shankly, had coached, been a director, played for the Army, played semi pro in the fifties, was dedicated to it. It's as if when he died, bear took over. It feels odd. I wish I hadn't thought about it.