Skip to main content

Sick Day


Samantha stayed home with a fever today.

No, no. Save your “aw’s” and “poor baby’s”. She is full of some mysterious energy and has become quite expressive -- quite. Apparently a fever can jump start a child’s ability to communicate. Here are some of the conversations we’ve had over the last two days (keep in mind she’s only two):

Me: “Sweetie, let’s go inside and I’ll give you some medicine so you’ll feel better.”

Samantha: “No! I don’t want medicine!”

Me: “But it will taste good. Fever medicine tastes much better than nose medicine,” (which is true, by the way.)

Samantha: “No. I’m gonna run away from you!”

Me: “But it will make you feel better.”

Samantha: “No. I’m not gonna take it. No.”

Does this sound like a child who’s feeling badly to you?

Inside, as I prepared the medicine, she said, “I’m not gonna take it. I’m gonna stick my thumb in my mouth like this.” I looked over to see her cross her arms tightly in front of her chest and jam her thumb into her mouth. And frown.

I managed to medicate with the promise of a lollipop, and I got her to agree that it did indeed taste good -- as Mommy promised. (I’m not above “I told-you-so”.)

This morning when Michael went to their room to wake them up, I heard this:

“No! You woke us up, Daddy! Close the door!” It was Samantha.

“That’s right, it’s time to get up,” Michael said cheerfully, apparently not realizing that cheerfulness is wasted on sleepy children.

“No, no! Close the door!” she insisted.

I went in, felt her forehead, and took her temperature: 102.4 degrees. Before I could launch into my morning child-wrangling routine, she said, “I’m going to Grandma’s house today. I’m gonna take Baby Doll. I want to wear a pink dress, and I want Baby Doll to wear a little pink dress, too. I’m gonna wear a diaper.”

“Um, OK.” Apparently fever also gives children the ability to dictate. It’s not that hard to imagine her years from now:

I’m going to Milan today. I’m going to take my assistant. Where’s my iPhone? I want to wear my burgundy dress suit, and tell everyone else to wear business-casual. I’m gonna wear a thong.

After dressing, she said, “Now I’m gonna take my medicine. I’m gonna take my medicine now. I’m gonna drink it all up. Put it in a cup first. I want a vitamin, too.”

Then, “I want to put on my shoes, my white shoes. Mommy, you need to put on your shoes, too. Your brown ones. You forgot. I’m gonna put my white shoes on now. Where are they?”

She went on and on like this, directing the morning routine. Which is why I’m not overly concerned right now as she “rests” at Grandma’s house, enjoying her sick day. If Samantha doesn’t sleep well tonight, I’m sure Grandma will. She has a long day of Princess-pleasing ahead of her.

Current temp: 99 degrees.




Previous Comments
 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

About This Blog

Right off the top, it's a goofy name. I was looking for a new name for my blog, and then one morning I had the following exchange with my husband. We were taking our daughter to preschool and found ourselves following a well-dressed mom wearing a cute little skirt and high heels. I tilted my head to one side like a puppy noticing something strange for the first time. Michael also tilted his head, but was thinking of something else. "How come you don't wear skirts and high heels to work?" he asked. "She must be freezing. It doesn't seem practical." "She doesn't seem to mind." "I suppose not." Two heads tilt to the other side. "Oh well, I guess I'm more of a cords and fleece kind of girl." Two heads straighten. And there you have it -- a blog title based entirely on what I like to wear in the wintertime. Talk about impractical. The former title was Domestic Irritation. I liked that title a lot -- i

Adult Beginning Gymnastics Revealed

The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself. Well...yes and no . Sometimes what we fear turns out to be OK -- in fact, it turns out to be pretty damned fun. The squadron of peppy cheerleaders turns out to be an extremely quiet guy named Ron and a nice girl named Alison who looks like Hayley Mills (but doesn't know who Hayley Mills is). The gymnastics instructor turns out to be a nice young girl woman who is easy to talk to. And I turn out to be considerably less decrepit than originally feared. Of the three students (!), I'm definitely the oldest by more than a decade. However, I was surprised (and thrilled) to see how evenly matched we were. Where one student is flexible, the other is strong. What I lack in youth, I make up for in pointy toes and perky presentation. While I'm certainly not as fit as the other students, I am not miles behind in skill. (Maybe just a few blocks away.) The first class was primarily an assessment of our current capabilities, so we c

Got No Class, Got No Clue

Soccer, kung fu, or gymnastics? Art, piano, or dance? Fencing? I want to enroll Elizabeth in some sort of class, but it's just not going well. I'm not sure if the problem is me... OK, it is me . Take ME out of the equation and the "problem" magically disappears. Lizzy is just not interested in joining a team or taking a class, and Michael isn't keen to sign her up (and thus spend money) for a class she won't enjoy or may not participate in fully. He has a point. We enrolled her in soccer last year, and while most kids ran up and down the field kicking their balls, Lizzy stopped to examine a flower. When the kids stood in "ready position" (standing in line with one foot atop their soccer balls), she sat on her ball at the end of the line. While other kids weaved their balls around little orange traffic cones, Lizzy picked up a cone, turned it upside, placed her soccer ball on top of it, and pretended to lick it like an ice cream cone. That is Lizzy i