My boy had his first fever on Sunday. I figure that’s pretty good, nearly 8 months in and hasn’t been sick yet? Kid’s a fighter. Or so I thought, before this weekend, when he finally came down with a temperature.

Like many other firsts for a new parent, the first time your first child is sick can be a pretty harrowing experience. Having never gone through it before, MomandBuried and I were in full-on panic-mode.

As soon as we pulled that thermometer out of his ass and saw what it read, it was Def Con 4: Baby Tylenol, dunk him in a tub of ice cubes, call in an exorcist. It got CRAZY.

The two of us ended up staying awake all night, standing watch by his crib, monitoring him, holding his hand, making sure he had everything he needed, making sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold in his room. Just being there for him really.

In other news, I have a bridge to sell you. Because we didn’t do any of that shit.

We took his temperature, shrugged our shoulders and put him to sleep. Then we watched the latest episode of “Friday Night Lights,” had a few glasses of wine, and went to sleep. And we slept like babies. Like healthy, un-feverish babies. I don’t know how he slept because I turned the monitor off so I didn’t have to hear his sickly moaning. Kid needs to learn to fight the fever and power through. And so we let him.

And he delivered. Yeah, he woke up warm and still not quite himself (to be fair, he’d had a thermometer shoved up his ass, that kind of thing changes a man). He wasn’t eating as much, wasn’t as energetic as he usually is, etc. He wasn’t even putting his hand in his mouth to gather drool to whip out towards my face or the TV or the clothes I was about to put on for work. It was clear he was tired and wasn’t feeling well. But we didn’t panic. None of that “the sky is falling” B.S. Kids get sick. He had a small fever. All would be well.

And all was well. By the time I got home from work Monday evening (no, I didn’t take the day off to stand vigil), his temp was back down to normal and he was bouncing his ass of in his bouncy seat. Like nothing had ever happened. Because nothing really did.

It’s one of those things that seems like a big deal when you just had your first kid and don’t know what you’re doing, and it can be tough to talk yourself down and let everything run its course. The reality of our reaction lies somewhere in the middle of what’s presented in this post (we neither over-reacted nor under-reacted), but thankfully it turned out okay. He’s fine, we’re fine, hallelujah.

But I’m telling you right now, when the day comes that he gets a stomach bug, I’m staying at a hotel.

I DON’T DO PUKING.