Much to my surprise, Oliver has thrown me for a loop this week as our family has fairly smoothly adjusted to our new schedule. Lucy likes to call it the crazypox. She says it involves spots on his legs, but I think it has a lot to do with his enthusiasm for having mom all to himself.
He was ecstatic on Monday, while Lucy was away. He made no discernible reference to her. Here he found Lucy’s new markers. I made a beeline for outside. But today, Oliver ripped the flaps out of one of his books and wrote all over his crotch with an ink pen.
Tuesday night I got him in the bed a little earlier than usual, because I am exhausted by waking up earlier. I was pleased until 1:30 am when Oliver awoke acting like it was the morning. He played, he ate, he wanted to read his favorite book. He finally went back to sleep around 3. I was worthless yesterday. And a little girl asked if he was my grandchild. I definitely felt like his grandmother.
Last night Oliver woke around 4 am and started scratching. That is not unusual, but the bumps didn’t feel like mosquito bites or a heat rash. So we went to the doctor this morning. We guess that it is poison oak. She warned me that a small percentage of children have an adverse reaction to Benadryl. But I waited until bedtime to give it to him anyway.
While I was reading to Lucy, Oliver was totally wound up. He started throwing his body around, falling on brand new library books and he even bit me. He was wild. I tried to put him in time out. But I’m not sure he has grasped the concept yet. I was pretty scared about the next few hours. But he is asleep now. So maybe it was just another attack of the crazypox. It isn’t contagious, except it always turns over Lucy’s giggle box.
I think in the coming weeks, I need to set up a calisthenics course in my backyard. Plus I’m open for ant play dates that will exhaust my son, but ideally not me.