“Awp? Awp Dod?” the little boy clawed at my legs and hopped a few times. He was congested and it took me a second to realize what he was saying.

“Oh. Oh you want me to pick you up?” I lifted him in the air and he nestled into me. I struggled to hold him and push the shopping cart at the same time, and tried to ignore the goop his nose was smearing onto my shoulder.

“You know,” I said, still straining to keep him balanced in my arms. “You should really move around on your own. I know you don’t feel well, but it’s healthy to get your blood flowing and to be active.”

He sighed a raspy sigh, “Otay Dod…” Then he started rocking violently back and forth and wiggling his hands in the air. His head rolled in a circle and his tongue flopped in and out of his mouth.

I let go of the cart and lunged to keep from dropping him on the tile floor. “Whoa Stop. That’s not the kind of moving around I was talking about. Let’s not do that. That kind of moving around will actually put us both in the hospital.”