Luke had croup last night. It's the third time he's had it since he was born. Caleb had croup a few times when he was a toddler and I guess I consider myself somewhat of a croup expert.

Except...

I should have known it was coming. In the past few days, Luke has been tired and cranky. He choked on his lunch twice and I've had to pull him out of his highchair, turn him upside down and 'whack' him on the back. In what seemed like five minutes, but was probably only five seconds, I was talking to Luke, wondering where my cell phone was, praying, and listening to Caleb in the background saying " I hope Luke doesn't die" in a sweet and calm voice. Luke 'coughed' it up and all is well.

Except...

I also heard Luke wheezing yesterday and of course I shrugged it off. There was a fleeting second where it crossed my mind that he couldn't breathe properly, but it was only a fleeting second.

And then...

2:50 am... Luke wakes up scared, crying, and trying to catch his breath. I rush into his room where Caleb is half asleep and saying "it's okay bud, are you okay?". I pick up Luke and we head out the front door. Cold air helps to decrease the swelling in the throat, making it easier to breathe. Of course, it's a mild winter evening and we have to stay outside longer than usual. We go back inside, have some ice water and motrin and it's back to bed.

In the busy moments of life I need to slow down and listen to the voice prompting me to give some TLC.