Dad Post: Slowing my pace for the little sick kiddo

Nothing is a better reminder of the franticness of life than a morning with a sick child. Katherine is sick, and Angie and the girls are out this morning. So I'm home taking care of her. My mind keeps running through the checklist of "real work" that I need to get done, but the little one sleeping on the couch is a living plea to slow things down for the day.

She feels yucky. She's running a moderate fever, and has thrown up once this morning already. She is so under the weather that she doesn't even want to watch Dora the Explorer (and TV is a rare treat around here.)

Angie's parting advice this morning was to just coddle Katherine. So I sat with her on the couch for three-quarters of an hour and watched her drift off to sleep, a forced slowing of my usual frantic morning routine.

For several minutes she tossed about. Then the tossing slowed and she settled into one position and stared at the ceiling. Her feet swayed back and forth for a while, then they, too seemed to find a comfortable position. Like little butterflies, her eyelids fluttered open and closed -- rapidly at first, but as the minutes ticked by, they remained closed longer than they remained open. Her fingers twisted and untwisted the corners of her "special blankie," the now-tattered crocheted blanket hand made by her Grammy. When the busy hands finally went limp, I knew Katherine was asleep.

After carefully extracting myself from the couch, I did my best to silently accomplish a few chores. Only with a slow and deliberate pace could I get these done without waking Katherine. With only a few things done I sat down to write this. Now, as I glance up mid-paragraph, I'm noticing Katherine is not asleep anymore. She's staring at me across the room. I'm giving her little smiles, which she is weakly returning. It's time for me to head back over to the couch and watch the minute hand tick away as I absorb what it means to be a father.