“He can’t be ill, it’s only my second week back at work…”, I half joked to Nev, hoping that the ‘verging on fever’ reading on the thermometer was just down to teething, or equipment failure, or something – anything – other than actual illness.
Elliott had been fine for most of the day yesterday. In fact, with the exception of a longer than usual morning nap he was very chipper. We went to two parks: one to feed the ducks; the other to play on the swings and then popped to Tesco’s numerous times because I still appear to have baby brain and left my keys in the baby change! Thank goodness an honest soul handed them in.
It was only when my mom was playing with Elliott (we bumped into each other in town so she popped in for a bit) that I noticed Elliott was being a bit clingy towards me and as I frantically started peeling potatoes in the kitchen, so I could get back to him, I noticed he looked sleepy and just wanted his mummy.
Potatoes bubbling away I dashed in, popped In the Night Garden on the TV and prepared to trim Elliott’s nails. As I picked him up I noticed how warm he was. I assumed it was the new jeans I had dressed him in. Maybe they were lined and I hadn’t realised. I removed them, he was still super-warm. Something was wrong. As if to confirm this he didn’t wriggle once during his mani-pedi…
I took his temperature, it was verging on feverish. We (Nev was home by this point) administered Calpol. Elliott ate a small amount of dinner (mostly peas), had a chill out on mummy and then suddenly sprang to life at, oh around quarter-past-bedtime, when Nev found himself chasing Elliott from room to room as he prepared him for beddy-byes (or nug nugs as we like to call it).
A disturbed nights sleep didn’t do anything to put my mind at rest. But then this morning Elliott was as right as reign. Sure, he spent the last hour or so in bed with us as he couldn’t settle in his cot, but otherwise he was his normal cheeky monkey, walker pushing, Postman Pat loving self. I took him to nursery and gave them the background on the night before. He cried and reached out for me. I left…
I was half expecting a phone call from the nursery at some point in the day, but nothing. Phew, I thought. Now I can get cracking on my social media strategy (honest boss that’s exactly what I thought…) and then at 4:30pm my phone rang and the name of the nursery flashed up in my caller ID. Oh no!
It seemed to take ages for the nursery manager to get to the point, but that was probably just because I was impatient to find out what was going on. Elliott had come out in little spots on his stomach throughout the day. One at around 11am and then more afterwards. They thought it might be chicken pox, could I come and collect him… She then explained that I would need to take Elliott to the doctors to find out if it was chicken pox. If it wasn’t I was to get a letter from the doctor stating this so he could go back to nursery – he wouldn’t be allowed to return without this until the spots had scabbed over (usually 5 – 7 days).
I left work in a whirlwind, taking as much as I could with me incase I was going to be working from home for the forseeable. I rang Nev, no answer. I called the doctor and managed to get an appointment that evening. I got stuck in traffic and then eventually when I reached the nursery I walked into the baby room to see a smiling Elliott. Well, at first anyway, that soon changed when he saw me and he did one of those relief cries – why do they do that?? I was confused. He was supposed to be ill, yet here he was sitting in nursery looking super happy and chilled out.
“How is he?”, I asked in trepidation.
“Oh he’s fine.”, came their response, and he really was. He was a proper cheeky chappy and babbled all the way to the doctors. The rash was definitely there, all on his stomach but no where else. After pacing around the waiting room at the doctors (to keep Elliott occupied rather than out of fear) we were called in. I explained the situation to the doctor. He took a look and declared it wasn’t chicken pox.
“I need a note from you to give to the nursery to confirm that, so he can go back to nursery please.”, I explained.
Doctor then had a bit a rant, which I don’t think was aimed at me or the nursery but something that had happened prior to our appointment so I just nodded a lot and looked concerned in the right places and then Elliott got issued with a ‘fit to work certificate’ which made us both chuckle as we wondered if he was the youngest person ever to have a sick note which says you’re not sick.
So, there we go. Our first chicken pox scare. I’m still on the fence. Elliott has been fine this evening and there’s been no sign of the rash spreading further, so I’m sure he’s OK but there is a part of me expecting to walk into him tomorrow morning and see him covered in big, crusty red spots. Watch this space..!