The other day Kerrington was markedly cranky, which is unlike her. I hoisted her onto my hip and she melded into me, lowering her head onto my shoulder. Immediately I could tell that her forehead was warm.
While I never would wish illness on my children, there is something exceptionally sweet about the vulnerability of a sick child. My girls don't normally slow down long enough to cuddle for any length of time. They're on missions; they're careening, darting from one thing to the next, and scattering through the house like errant pin balls.
But not when they're feverish.
I sank into a corner in the couch, settled Kerrington onto my lap, and held her long and close, reveling in how she nuzzled into my embrace.
Her fever's gone now, and I'm glad. Oh, if only the snuggling always could continue.