Simple Pleasures | March 13, 2003
I was sick with the flu last week. I mean really sick. Lost seven pounds in two days sick. The kind of sick where you realize you're going to die, and the realization comes as a great comfort because all this will soon be over...

To make matters worse (or better as you will see) my five year old was sick too. Not with the flu, but with strep throat.

We both stayed home from school for a couple of days.

My wife worried about leaving a very sick dad home with a very sick boy, but he and I, being very much on the same level, worked things out wonderfully.

D: do you want something to eat?

B: no.

D: good.

D: do you want me to read you a book?

B: no.

D: good.

D: do you want to watch another Scooby Doo movie while I pass out?

B: yes. (then passes out)

It was a great system.

Eventually, we both started feeling better, got sick of Scooby Doo in his bed, and moved out to the living room. I on the couch, and he in the rocking chair that I once used to feed him bottles at three AM.

He started rocking back and forth, and I sort of watched and dozed. Suddenly this rocking chair that sat on a carpeted floor started squeaking in exactly the same way that my mom's did when she was watching her sick little boy. That one was on a hardwood floor in a porch a long way away, and a long time ago.

I looked at my son, thinking that the delirium was taking hold again, and said: "Is that you making that squeaking noise?" He looked at me and smiled.

B: do you like it?

D: yes.

B: do you want me to keep doing it to make you feel better?

D: yes.

B: OK - but don't ask how I make the sound - it's a secret.

D: ok

It turns out that he was making the sound by rolling his head back and forth on the slats of the chair as he rocked. By doing this, suddenly he was the mom, giving me comfort as I dozed, and taking great pleasure in his new role as caretaker.

Things to come....


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