Fever
Dutch is home sick. I'm home with her. I should be using every precious moment to do school stuff, instead of blogging. Dutch is almost never listless and sleepy when she's sick, so she requires lots of attention. Last night she woke up at 11:30, 4:30, 5, 5:30, 6, and finally at 6:30, each time awaking with some sort of chipper announcement like "Mom, I'm full of green soup! I had green soup and that bread we made for dinner!" and a desire to chat. Consequently, I am worn out and not exactly primed for a long day of Florence-Nightingaling my feverish girl. She's sitting in my bed right now, playing with her favorite doll, but I doubt that she will stay occupied long.
She's such a drama queen, this kid. As soon as I told her she was feverish, she went into nineteenth-century-novel mode. "My legs hurt! My belly hurts! Now my forehead hurts! Mama, when will the hurting stop!?!?!?!!" She said she wanted breakfast in bed. I said no. She said she wanted French toast for breakfast. I said no. (I think it's my job to keep her from going all Emma Bovary.*) If it turns out she's actually fatally ill (with consumption, probably, or some other high-quality nineteenth-century illness**), I will feel very bad about this. But I think she's going to be okay.
* By which I do not mean that I expect her to commit suicide. Just the drama queen part of the character.
** It's pretty clear that Dutch subscribes to the Jane Austen school of disease, in which getting caught in the rain is extremely dangerous, and getting cold means you will surely at least come very close to death from a cold.
She's such a drama queen, this kid. As soon as I told her she was feverish, she went into nineteenth-century-novel mode. "My legs hurt! My belly hurts! Now my forehead hurts! Mama, when will the hurting stop!?!?!?!!" She said she wanted breakfast in bed. I said no. She said she wanted French toast for breakfast. I said no. (I think it's my job to keep her from going all Emma Bovary.*) If it turns out she's actually fatally ill (with consumption, probably, or some other high-quality nineteenth-century illness**), I will feel very bad about this. But I think she's going to be okay.
* By which I do not mean that I expect her to commit suicide. Just the drama queen part of the character.
** It's pretty clear that Dutch subscribes to the Jane Austen school of disease, in which getting caught in the rain is extremely dangerous, and getting cold means you will surely at least come very close to death from a cold.
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