Die Before You Die
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihvEYw_eEuabnfg1r8bI-KTpOOL8HtekCmcm6VJOXsuRhCFo-NtBdMiBR0cKcmvwdIraBy3nphIyjgeeKdl4YH-hqgrXvcw12KJtQQBekXcH1_x7U2ebMJehvKAa0gz5EeEXK0pETjiJ4/s200/Perfect+Storm.jpg)
Kids seem to get sick in different but consistent ways. We're discovering that our older boys' typical symptoms are disastrously complimentary. John Paul coughs all night for a week or two and James sleeps even more fitfully than normal. Yeah -- it's kind of a perfect storm. [In case you're wondering, Thomas is a cherub; a blessed cherub of nocturnal tranquility -- thank you, dear sweet Jesus.] 11:30pm -- James comes pattering in to our room, sobbing and frustrated. I jolt awake. I hear JP coughing deeply, rhythmically, productively. The optimistic hope of Maybe they'll sleep through the night died again. 11:30pm to 1am -- I tuck them back in. I wait out the hacking. I reassure the fearful. I comfort the frustrated. I re-blanket the thrasher. My nightly paternal works of mercy are performed. Each with care and consistency. But each with a twinge of regret at my self-seeking. If I do these, I get to go back to bed and sleep. Please, Lord, let this b...