My dear Tobin,

It’s been quite a week.  One week ago today, we were excitedly getting organized for our trip to Universal Orlando, which was to begin on Saturday.  We were fretting about the weather—things weren’t looking good in our part of the country, but our connection on Saturday was in Charlotte, so as long as the system held off until we were in the air, we thought we’d be okay.

Then, Friday morning, you woke up with a high fever.  It’s influenza season, and although you got immunized in the fall, one of Miles’s good friends and his whole family came down with Influenza A.  They had also gotten flu shots, and that particular friend was one who had recently come to Miles’s birthday party at the trampoline park, which you also attended.  My heart dropped and I said a pretty serious swear word when I saw the number on the thermometer.  I immediately dosed you with ibuprofen, got Miles ready and off to school with your dad, and began researching American Airlines ticket change policies.  Our park tickets had flexible dates, but I had no idea what to do about the plane tickets, the hotel, the Blue Man Group tickets…could I leave you home with your dad and just take Miles?  After all, it was his birthday and it seemed unfair to take the trip away from him.  But I knew you would be devastated if you couldn’t go, even with the promise of a rescheduled trip.  Would it help if we all waited and went together?

Photo by Denny

As soon as your dad got home from taking Miles to school, he took you to the doctor.  You got the influenza test, which is a swab up the nose.  I had it done once, and it creates a very bizarre, somewhat painful sensation.  I was texting your dad for updates, and he told me that the test was complete and you needed to wait ten minutes for results.  I think my heart beat about forty thousand times in those ten minutes, but when I received his text that said, “Negative for influenza,” I almost cried with relief.

Your fever was already way down (in fact, I think our thermometer may have been giving falsely high readings), and the doctor said influenza doesn’t usually respond to analgesics.  By the time you got home from the clinic, you were cheerful and hungry for the bagel your dad picked up for you.  I told you that we’d keep an eye on your health, but the trip was no longer totally out of the question.

You rallied, my brave little pup.  With a combination of ibuprofen, Tylenol, rest, and fluids, you were ready to rock and roll the next morning.  Our flight remained on schedule, and we arrived in Orlando that night.

Even a bit under the weather, you were so energetic.  Aunt Suzy said your energy levels reminded her of the crazy dotted paths the kids in the Family Circus take.  When I saw this display in the comics area of Universal Islands of Adventure, it seemed like the perfect photo op for you.  You wore your Hufflepuff robe with pride, and you were so happy that you qualified for all the rides.  The minimum height for the scariest ride in Hogsmeade, Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey, is 48 inches.  At home we measured you at 49 inches, but by the height-stick standard at the park, you were just a touch over 48.  In any case, you qualified.  We were all getting a little psyched out as we waited in the long line.  Several times along the way, they had posted signs that listed all the people who shouldn’t go on the ride:  people with back or neck conditions, pregnant women, people who have recently had surgery (“Because you wouldn’t want your intestines flying out,” you observed), people with claustrophobia, people who are prone to motion sickness (those last two had Mubby concerned), and probably several more caveats I can’t remember.  By the time we got to the end of the line, we’d almost talked ourselves out of going on it.

But go on it we did, the whole group of us, and it was totally worth it.  It was a truly amazing spectacle, and while there were some intense moments, it was more exciting than scary.  I did squeeze your leg a few times to check on you, but you were loving it.  You wanted to get in line again immediately, but we decided to have lunch instead.  You, Miles, Suzy and I did go back later for a second ride, which we agreed was even more than the first time.

The rest of the trip was similarly fun and crazy.  We were racing around from place to place, trying to make it to the Blue Man Group performance and later to the bus that would take us back to the hotel.  The whole adventure, including the dicey weather that threatened our trip home, was a series of “Will it work out?” moments of terror.  Every time, though, we prevailed.  It must have been a spell you cast with your wand.

Photo by Denny

The last week has been so action-packed that it’s hard to remember what else happened this month, but we did enjoy our family and extended-family Christmas celebrations.  You had lots of fun playing Skitter’s cornet, and he even let you bring it home so you could play it in the talent show at the New Year’s Eve party we attended.  You did great renditions of “Hot Crossed Buns” and “Jingle Bells.”

You only had one day of school this week due to inclement weather, and your energy levels can be a little hard for me to handle when we spend so much time indoors together.  When I’m tired or overwhelmed, all I want is to be alone somewhere quiet.  I feel like this is a pretty common and reasonable response to stress and overstimulation.  You have the complete opposite response.  For some reason, you get wired and extra wiggly and talkative when you’re tired, which can be a lot for the others around you to handle.  Your dad is going out of town this weekend, so we’re going to have even more time together.  Fortunately we have some good activities planned. so I hope you can use your energy productively.

Last night you had your first basketball practice of the season, and when you got home, you didn’t feel like you’d gotten a good enough workout, so you ran on the treadmill.  Only you, Tobin.  Too bad the treadmill forces you to run in place rather than in a crazy dotted line all over the neighborhood.

Even though you make me so, so tired, I still love you a lot.  I’m really happy that you felt well enough to go on our great adventure and that none of the potential disasters actually happened.  I don’t know that I  believe in luck, but the only times in my life I’ve ever found four-leaf clovers have been with you.

I’m just saying is all.

Love,

Mommy