What a weekend! And I don't mean that in any gee-whiz-we-sure-had-a-blast kind of way. It was awful. And what can shoot a perfectly good couple of days all to pieces faster than anything? Having a sick kid.

Now, I'm well aware that the usual healthy state of my children is a blessing I can never repay and that other families deal with some truly devastating circumstances I don't even want to begin to contemplate. Even more reason, I suppose, that illness makes us a little crazy around here ... we're just not in shape for it.

Saturday was rolling along pretty well, with Dad and his boy busy doing all sorts of dad/boy activities outside ... lifting, toting, clearing, sweeping, playing with the dogs, pounding nails into coconuts, that sort of stuff. I suspected something in the works, however, when Sam came in about two o'clock and ASKED to take a nap. That was a brand new behavior that had me sniffing around for something not quite right. He fell asleep, smelling just fine as he snored away, but I was suspicious.

Sometime during the night, Mark woke me with the news that Sam was feeling warm. Sure enough, his temp was over 99F. No big deal, some would say, but for us it is. We dosed him with Tylenol, which seemed to do the trick, then checked him every few minutes until morning. That dawned bright and clear, and on a little boy who was chipper and fit.

A couple of hours later, however, and a lethargy I recognize as illness in him started coming over Sam. Over the next half hour his temperature zipped from normal to 103F and complaints of stomach pains had us thinking appendix. Another dose of antipyretic prefaced our quick trip to Victoria hospital where he was diagnosed, once again, with tonsillitis, a recurring theme in our house.

It wasn't until we were headed home that I had the revelation I wished I had allowed myself earlier ... Sam had just managed to spike a fever without having a seizure! Wow. Our little boy is growing up.

Febrile seizures. All about them in the next post ...