Andy woke up at 6:30am (early for my late sleeper) screaming yesterday. I ran into his room, and he was sweating and burning up. I took his temp, and it was a whopping 103.5. Not quite sure how high it should go up before I should freak out, I called the pediatrician (and Peter and my mom, I was freaking out anyway). Turns out 105 is where we worry. So there were to be no trips to the pediatrician again (good thing since the nurse admitted he could have gotten the fever after going there on Wednesday) or the hospital. But I had a feverish baby who needs eye drops and is almost as strong as me so they are damn near impossible to put in alone, is not able to go anywhere, and is not able to go for a walk because it was damn cold out. My day was fun to say the least. Whenever I feel like I have a handle on this whole parenting thing, something like this happens. I comment to my mom that Andy's naps have been consistent for months, and he stops napping for a week. I tell my mom I can totally handle Peter being away, and my baby is the sickest he's ever been. I need to keep my mouth shut. Right now I'm on hold with the pediatrician to see if we need to bring him back in as his temp has gone back up to 102.5. Peter's finally home (2am last night), so at least I don't have to struggle alone. I must say how great it is to have tv. Dora and Blues Clues have been my saviors. I don't know how people did this 100 years ago.