And he woke up throwing up.
Poor guy!!
So, we moved the birthday festivities around and he sat around, in his fuzzy-jammies-from-last-winter-that-he-loves-so-much-that-we-still-squeeze-him-into-them, watching Curious George and sipping clear liquids.
I loved on him as well as I could today, getting him the food he wanted (a little bit of white cheese and a little bit of yellow cheese and some bread to make it real yummy okay mom?), and snuggled him when he wanted.
Not the birthday we had planned for him, but my heart was still so thankful that I could be here, taking care of my sick, sweet boy.
The sweet boy, who, when recently making meatballs with me, just blurts out: God isn't here.
Caught of guard, I paused and responded, "nope, God is here...we just can't see him. God's always with us and takes care of us."
Grant stared back at me, and in his sweet way of furrowing up his nose and eyebrows said, "ooooh, yes, God IS here.
Let's share meatballs with him".
Somehow, I think God would love meatballs from a just-turned-four-year-old.
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