Addison is recovering splendidly from his bacteria/virus/thing. There is always a point when my kids get sick that I think I’m doing everything wrong, and I should run to an emergency room or doctor. This point usually happens about 3/4 of the way to wellness.

Yesterday morning, Addison looked like a wrung-out dish rag. Because of the Down Syndrome, he is this "super-flexi" boy and can do the splits and Yoga positions students around the world would envy. He watched the Clifford cartoon as if he only had hours left to live. I picked up his legs, and they flopped to the floor like a dropped bag of water.

This is it, I thought doubting my apple cider vinegar/baking soda/turmeric/fresh squeezed apple juice and enema* medicines. A doctor can surely do much more than little old me.

Then this show comes on he loves. It’s a perky version, juvenile version of the show Laugh In without the sex or bad jokes called High Five. Five teenagers sing about the five senses and Addison knows the whole song. He sat up and began jazzing right along with the singers. Then his sister Coco let him cuddle a new stuffed puppy she bought with her money at the store. Then, he sipped some of a bottle of some of that homemade medicine. Later he ate some applesauce, took a bath, and played ball around the living room.

He slept through the night. I woke up with that instant thought of terror:

He’s dead. Is he breathing? I should have brought him to a doctor.

I listened. HIs breathing slowly pumped in and out of his chest. I relaxed back into the pillow and behind the light in my eyes, I saw the terror flee - tail between it’s legs. But it looked back at with a glimmer in it’s eye as if to say: I’ll be back again.

*not in that specific order