Noah has a fever. This morning we took him swimming as usual. This is shortly after I said "God he feels hot doesn't he?". No shit, Sherlock. So we took him swimming. He was great as ever, doing every single task without batting an eyelid, and doing stuff that our instructor keeps saying only the toddlers in the advanced groups are doing.

I'm always so proud of him when we're swimming. I'm so proud of him anyways.

In the car, he fell asleep after only 2 minutes of the engine being on, and once home he slept for three and a half hours straight. He barely ate when he woke up, but drank like a fish. I don't normally panic over the food thing, I know he can be fussy sometimes, it's what babies do. That's ok.

But when 2 hours later, he still wasn't interested in food and still felt like a furnace, I was feeling pretty bad for him and for my own stupidity for ignoring his heat this morning. He spent the afternoon wobbling backwards and forwards between me and his dad, plopping himself on our laps only to stare blankly at the tv. He barely perked up, laughing only occasionally at the odd tickle or toy (or fart or burp, which I know is inappropriate but god he's so funny).

We took his temp like clumsy confused parents, and it was high. Like, 38°c high. The dumb batteries in the thermometer are dying so we haven't got an accurate reading, but the screen flashes red and is always above 38°c every time, at one point reading 38.9°c. I very nearly wet myself.

He's in bed now, having had the usual doses of Calpol. He's had some throughout the day, and there's been no change. I've checked him all over for rashes and whatever. I've spoken to my mum who's obviously given some good advice, and it's all pretty much what we're already doing. I know there's nothing else to do at this point apart from to keep the Calpol going and monitor his temp.

But it's always so much harder to remain calm when it's your own you know? That silent panic. It just ain't fun at all.