Finding the Hidden Charm in a Sick Day

home insemination Kit

Updated: July 2, 2020 | Originally Published: May 19, 2016

When I caught wind that strep throat was making its rounds in my son’s second-grade class, I let out the classic mom sigh—the kind that echoes years of experience, exhaustion, and a hint of resignation. My son, generally a picture of health, has a knack for being the first to catch whatever bugs are circulating, especially strep.

Sure enough, just two days later, he was down for the count with a fever, sore throat, and a pounding headache. The pediatrician confirmed my fears, and I promptly cancelled my work meetings from the car as we left the office, bracing myself to cuddle up with my irritable, sick little guy for a couple of days while the amoxicillin worked its magic.

Once we got home, he sprang for the remote with whatever energy he had left, fully aware that being sick in our house meant endless screen time. I plopped down beside him, laptop in tow, ready to tackle my emails. But then, about thirty minutes into The Princess Bride, something unexpected happened.

“Mom. Mommy. Can you hold my hand?”

I looked over at my eight-year-old, sprawled across the couch almost entirely. He was reaching out for me. This was the same kid who no longer allowed public displays of affection, who was suddenly very conscious of his outfits and how cool his backpack looked. Just recently he had insisted on a trendy spiky haircut to look “awesome.” Bedtime kisses and extra glasses of water were long gone, and he was growing up faster than I could keep up with.

“Of course,” I replied, trying to maintain my cool demeanor. “Why don’t you come sit a little closer?” He did, snuggling right up against my side, resting his feverish head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around him, and we sat there together like we used to when he was a toddler, but this time I was hesitant to shift even slightly—afraid he might decide he was too cool for this sort of thing.

We watched the entire movie together. I ignored my laptop and the incessant ping of email notifications. My coffee cooled to an unappetizing temperature, and I overlooked the dirty dishes sitting in the sink, along with the laundry that needed transferring to the dryer.

Instead, I relished the simple joy of being next to my son, sharing in the adventure of the Man in Black as he battled Inigo Montoya, navigated the Fire Swamp, and was resurrected by Miracle Max.

After the movie wrapped up, my son was ready to move, so we dug into the Lego bin and crafted an impressive tower. We spent the entire afternoon sifting through bricks to find the perfect pieces for our masterpiece. I only picked up my phone long enough to update my husband that the fever had broken.

Once our tower was complete, we ordered some delicious chicken soup and I read aloud to him—three chapters of Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH.

Without a doubt, it was one of the loveliest days I’d had with my son in a long time. I almost felt a twinge of sadness when my husband returned with our other two kids, who had spent the day at a friend’s house. I was thrilled to see them, but I didn’t want to break the spell of the day my son and I had shared.

It genuinely felt like a little slice of magic—me letting go of adult responsibilities while he embraced the moment without a care for being cool. It took me back to when he was my only child, a little two-year-old who was the center of my universe, but now he was even older, funnier, and smarter. I felt like I was witnessing a new side of him, bonding in ways I hadn’t in a while.

I believe he felt it too. At bedtime, he kissed me on the cheek without any prompting and said, “Hey, Mommy, thanks for a great day,” before drifting off to sleep.

This morning, I sent him back to school, his antibiotics having done their job. I sipped my coffee while he laced up his favorite sneakers and stuffed his backpack with math homework. At drop-off, he gave me his usual one-armed hug and dashed off toward his two best friends, not bothering to glance back at me standing at the school gates. He was cool again, and I know he’ll only get cooler as time goes on.

Yet, as I walked home, back to my laptop and the daily grind, I couldn’t help but smile. I know there are still a few quiet moments left where my son will reach for my hand.

To explore more about parenting and similar topics, check out the insights at Make a Mom, and for a deep dive into home insemination, visit The Center.

In summary, a sick day can turn into an unexpected opportunity to reconnect with your child, reminding us that sometimes, the most beautiful moments are found in the simplest of circumstances.