Last night was from hell. We had just finished watching “The Good Girl,” when i heard someone moaning upstairs. There, I found Griffin in his crib, feverish and unhappy. I immediately got him up, got him some fluids, and brought him into bed with me. I thought he might go directly to sleep, but instead he rolled around feverishly for some time, until it struck me to give him some fever reducer. This was probably after midnight, and within an hour he was sleeping. I brought him back into his crib, and was finally able to grab a few z’s, myself.

It wasn't until around 2:30 or 3 that the coughing twins appeared in my bed. As my kids know, Daddy awakened in the middle of the night closely resembles one of the seven dwarves, and it's not Happy. I gruffly admonished the girls to “stop all that coughing,” before realizing that this was a harsh, insensitive and unreasonable thing to say to your 3 and 5 year old daughters, who are probably just suffering because you forgot to change out the furnace filter. So I got them both some organic (honey-based) cough syrup, told them I love them, and went back to sleep.

Fortunately, Pam took Griffin in the morning, and I slept until I was late for work.