Our family was grumpy -- except for Elizabeth who was sick with fever and stayed at Grandma’s House on Friday. In fact, she was out of her mind with happiness while the rest of us dragged ourselves to school and work. When Lizzy learned she was sick enough to stay at Grandma’s the next day, her hot cheeks broke into a wide grin and she jumped on the couch. Poor sick child.
Friday morning, with a fever of 101, she primped in front of the mirror in preparation for her day. “Mommy,” she said, placing a tiara atop her head. “Even though I’m sick, I still want to look beautiful.” Don’t we all... “I’m happy I’m going to Grandma’s house.”
“We’re going to Grandma’s house!?” exclaimed Samantha when she heard this freaking fantastic news. “Yaaay!”
Oh, boy. How do I say this? “Um, you’re not going.”
That didn’t go over well. She tried to convince us that she, too, was sick -- but the thermometer doesn’t lie. Sorry, kid. You’re gonna have to throw up the cat or something if you want us to believe that.
We tried to cheer her up on the way to school, but neither the Brady Bunch, The Sound of Music, nor Linda Ronstadt could lift her spirits. She didn’t smile until she discovered they were serving muffins for breakfast -- a tasty consolation prize for missing a day at Grandma’s house. (These magical muffins are legendary. If the girls are lagging, the threat of missing the morning muffins will light their rear ends on fire. Note to self: must get recipe...)
Meanwhile, Grandma and Lizzy watched Clifford, snacked on candy corn and bacon (mmm), made books, and baked “spider cakes" -- little chocolate cakes with chocolate frosting, a white frosting “web”, and an orange spider with glowing green eyes on top. Apparently, Grandma’s prescription for what ails ye is a healthy dose of joie de vivre and a great deal of chocolate.
I remember those days. Once there was a time when a sore throat meant I could eat vanilla ice cream while watching Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom at my Grandma’s house. Sometimes we’d take long drives out into the country and find box turtles in the road after it rained. The ones that hadn’t been run over I would keep as pets until they escaped under the fence and were eaten by neighborhood dogs. And when things became dull, Grandma would decapitate one of her fuzzy little rabbits and cook it up for dinner. Ah, the good old days. No wonder I frequently told my nursery school teacher I had a tummy ache, only to skip down the hall when my Grandma walked through the door. Let the fun begin -- Grandma’s here!
Now when I’m sick, I’m just sick. My only reward is a quiet day spent alone in bed, thinking about all the work I’ll have to do tomorrow to make up for the sin of a sinus infection today. Sadly, there are no legless turtles or decapitated bunnies to distract me and put my illness into perspective. It’s such a drag.
Which is probably why the rest of us were so grumpy on Friday -- all we wanted to do was to spend a great, sick, day at Grandma’s house.
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