Sick Zane and his care providers

My poor little Zane was so tired and listless today at church, nothing at all like his usual perky, 100% busy-boy self.  He doesn't have a fever, but he obviously doesn't feel well.  I enjoyed the 3 straight hours of sleepy church snuggles but Van was not so much a fan, as evidenced by several hours of him attempting to kick Zane in the face. Unfortunately, between his foot and Zane's face is my belly (AKA "Everyone's favorite pillow.")  So it was also pretty much three straight hours of contractions. Also, hauling both those boys around just about broke this pregnant lady's back. We were all really ready to be done by the end of church.

This little sad guy.  Awwww.

Fortunately, I had plenty of help once we got home.  As we all know, Zoe LOVES to serve people, and nothing thrills her more than having an invalid around the house. I deposited Zane on the living room couch directly from the car, and she immediately started clucking and cooing and tucking and loving the sad little man.  She shared all her most beloved toys and brought him everything he could possibly want or need. Skipping around the house with joy over his misfortune, she trilled and sang and squealed about "how many serves I can do for Zane today!"

The queen of "serves"! He really looks appreciative, eh? 

Happy big sister tenderly asked him what he might like to eat, and then went to the kitchen to fix a sandwich to his precise specifications (ham and cheese with mayonnaise, plus a top) without any motherly guidance or help. To my surprise, she even got him ushed from the couch up into his seat at the table and though he's hardly eaten since yesterday he cheerfully munched half her sandwich before he gave up and headed back to his snuggle spot.

I commended her on her kindness toward her sick brother and thanked her for her help.  

Jed, never one to enjoy someone else's validation, broke in loudly "Well, it wasn't just her!" 

"Oh, really?" I replied

"Um, yeah."  Pause for thinking.

"I helped too. I noticed he was talking really soft and I told him to talk louder."

I must have looked skeptical because he added "I mean, it was REALLY soft, Mom, like a sick person!" (insert imitation of what was obviously to him a pathetic sick person mumble.)

I asked, "Do you think that made him feel better?"

Silence.

"That wasn't the only thing I did.  I also whacked  him in the knee with a broken hanger."

Isn't Zane lucky that there's at least one female sibling in our family?  Because gosh, when I feel lousy I always wish I had a big brother to whack me back into health with a hanger. 

(Although now that I think of it, I think my mother would probably consider this a perfectly valid form of healing, especially if it involved being whacked while cleaning a chicken coop. Maybe Jed's inability to be sympathetic to the ill comes from his Granny's side...)