Brantley is usually a whirlwind, wreaking havoc wherever he goes. Instead of the roar of a tornado, our house resonates with the pitter-patter of his bare feet and the delightful giggles and squeals that accompany his mischief.
My role in this ongoing whirlwind? To ensure everyone's safety. I'm constantly battening down the hatches, trying to shield Brantley and everyone else from his exuberant antics that mimic an indoor tornado.
My only respite seems to come when Brantley falls ill. When he's under the weather, our home becomes eerily quiet—a calm before Brantley’s storm returns, so to speak.
We are currently in that phase.
As a parent, it's gut-wrenching to see Brantley under the weather and not his usual lively self. Yet, I can't deny that his illness provides a me brief break from his usual wild antics. It's a chance to snuggle and shower affection on my sweet boy, who's normally a bundle of energy. While I would never wish for Brantley to be sick, it give’s me a moment to regroup. A chance to take a deep breath and brace myself for whatever comes next. A chance to appreciate Brantley’s wild ways, because as much as the calmness eases my life, a house without the sounds of Brantley's storm feels empty and somber.
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