Sam had the beginnings of a cold this past week and this seems to be the cyclical time of year that we all come down with something. Last year it was walking pneumonia, so I'm on high alert. It was the day after Halloween last year, after stuffing a screaming Sam into his lion costume, that he was sick for about 2 months on and off. Looking back I feel a little guilty. His screams may have been about feeling crappy, not about his dislike of his costume. So this year I've been plying him with home remedies to ward off any impending germs. He takes a couple of probiotics a day, has been having "tea" with honey and ginger, and any form of antioxidants I can think of (bring on the blueberries!).
Since his naps at school are considerably shorter than those he takes at home, and he's in a whole new germ pool, I figured it was only a matter of time before he was sick. It was no surprise when at 2:30 am the other night, I heard a scuffle from the nursery. Since he had a bloody nose recently, I went to investigate. Sam was standing in his crib yelling, "no boogies! Go away! All finished boogies!" He was pretty congested.
He ended up in our bed, and he ended up being the only one who slept for the rest of the night.
That next night we decided to break out the humidifier, easier said than done. It was no where to be found, though I had distinct memories of cleaning it and packing it away in the spring.
Chris checked closets, the attic (no easy feat), and eventually we decided it was in the cellar. This would be my job to fetch, as I knew exactly where it would be. Accessing it would be the issue. Our cellar has become a chaotic storage facility with more items littering the ground than anything else. I've tripped twice lately trying to get winter clothes and wrapping paper and I'm convinced it's hazardous to my mental health to be down there. It's becoming a bone of contention.
"If I go down there, I'm going to end up in a bad mood," I told Chris.
"I know! We don't want that, trust me." Chris told me.
"Bad mood?" Sam asked. He was already wary of the mysterious humidifier.
"Mummy doesn't like the cellar, it puts her in a bad mood."
"No bad mood! I don't want bad mood!" Sam yelled.
"Me neither!" Chris said.
Sam started to cry. "I no want to see bad mood. Mummy no see bad mood. Bad mood go away!"
"No, it's okay, we're teasing. Mummy won't be in a bad mood."
"Bad mood no get mummy! Make it go away!"
We realized this was now the bad mood had become a tangible basement monster that was clearly going to get me if I went down there. So we set about trying to explain what a bad mood is, and then naturally, directly related it to the humidifier in his mind.
"No, a bad mood is when someone is grumpy or sad. Mummy is just looking for the humidifier for your room."
"No cinnamon fires in Sammy's room! No the cinnamon fires and bad mood!"
"Humidifier Sam."
"NO Cinnamon FIRE! No BAD MOOD!"
We finally calmed him down.
"What bad mood look like? I see it?"
"No sweetie, you can't see it, it's when someone is unhappy. Look Elmo is in a bad mood!" We got stuffed Elmo to show Sam what Elmo would look like if he was grumpy.
"NOOO!!!! No Elmo bad mood!"
This conversation continued to deteriorate until the humidifier was retrieved, and plugged in, but then was not allowed in Sam's room.
"Cinnamon fire make me cry. Cinnamon fire and bad mood not in Sammy's room! You take it out now pwease!"
So the cinnamon fire/humidifier resides in the hallway. With an irrational fear of it (think side stepping the monstrous machine to get around it) and a fear of the bad mood which might not be far behind.
Armed with my 20% off Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupon, Sam and I went on a shopping trip a few days later, and found a friendly monkey "cinnamon fire" that is allowed to be in Sam's room. Of course he is still sniffling, but the cold doesn't seem to have taken over.
And Annie, the cat, demonstrated a bad mood for us today as we wait out Tropical Storm/Hurricane Sandy. She was royally pissed off when she finally came in soaking wet and meowing her head off.
"Oh, Annie mad!" Sam told me helpfully.
"Yes, she is mad." I agreed, then jumping on my opportunity, "she's in a bad mood!"
"Oh!" Sam nodded knowingly. "Yes, Annie in bad mood. Annie wet, Annie no like wet. Annie bad mood!" Thank you Annie. Think we might be good now.
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