Notes from the Nursery

He caught my cold. My poor baby lies in my arms tonight, feverish and congested, chest slathered with aromatic vaporizing rub. His head is cradled in my elbow, his little diapered butt rests on my lap. His legs dangle off the rocking chair. The hallway nightlight casts a dim glow in his room.

 We rock, and familiar verses ring in my ear.

I’m rocking my baby,
and babies don’t keep.

I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always.
As long as I’m living,
my baby you’ll be.

Long silky eyelashes lay against the curve of his flushed baby cheek. His ragged breathing through his stuffy nose starts to calm, and I suspect he’s finally asleep.

I press my chapped lips to his forehead and whisper, “Ready for bed?” His little fingers reach up and find my face.

“Mama,” he whispers, “No.”


5 Responses to Notes from the Nursery

  1. Heather says:

    Awww. Hope he’s better quickly.

  2. Coralie says:

    Ooooh, the poor little boy.

  3. fizzledink says:

    He does seem a little better this morning – no fever, at least, which is a relief. He was just so pitiful last night, all limp and cuddley. And he did NOT want to go to bed by himself, poor tyke. Hopefully his immune system is in better shape than mine (because I got sick on Friday and I still feel like crap)!

  4. There is nothing worse than a sick baby!

    Hope he is feeling better soon!

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