Pi's had three colds in just over two years of life. He takes probiotics regularly, was breastfed for a year, and through the luck of the genetic draw, appears to have a rock solid immune system, which is advantageous when one's diet is occasionally supplemented with sandbox sand, boogers, and dessicated bits of shredded cheese extracted from the crevices of the high chair.
Many of the T-cells are apparently in Niagara Falls this weekend, but the ones that stuck around are putting up a fight against whatever infection made its way into Pi. His fever was 101.5 at bedtime last night and 102.6 at 3:30 AM (the first time we've all seen the wee small hours in many moons). We dosed him with Tylenol and applied cold compresses. This morning it was down, but at around 7:00 PM he spiked at 104.5, and for only the second time in Pi's life I availed myself of the services of the doctor on call. Through a fog of disdain for the hysterical mother, the ped hurriedly advised Motrin and a tepid bath. Luckily, the ibuprofen in the Motrin was strong enough to penetrate the artificial sweeteners, preservatives, and FD&C colors, and the meds and bath brought his fever down to 100.9 before bedtime tonight. He may spike again tomorrow, or even later tonight, but for now he's resting comfortably.
It's just a fever, which means his body is doing what it should to ward off infection, and certainly a drop in the bucket of his life's illnesses, but seeing that thermometer shoot up over 104 was really scary for both Smitty and me. It's alarming when the ambient heat from your child causes you to break a sweat when rocking him to sleep.
I have one thing to say to Whatever Higher Power is out there: if it turns out that Pi is the only kid I get to have, keep your mitts off him. Even if he's not my only, even if I do get lucky enough to have more, you can't have him. Seriously, you touch one hair on his gorgeous curly red head, and I'll arrange a personal audience with you for the sole purpose of Kicking. Your. Omniscient. Ass.