dunno if we’ll come
she’s got a fever of 101….
And there you have the conversation I had with my father this afternoon, albeit with fewer guitar riffs.
Merry Christmas! Here’s a child burning up with fever for you. As a consolation, she is quite amusing when sick. For example, she was staring at my earrings earlier and asked if they were edible. (I was wearing my tiny gingerbread men earrings, because I am fancy.) I said no, but they’re fun anyway. And then she insisted she wasn’t talking about my earrings, but my FRECKLES. Well, those aren’t edible either, I told her. Then she laughed and laughed.
Because that’s hilarious, you see. Edible freckles.
Moving right along….
Actually, Christmas was quiet wonderful. Well, as great as it could be with a sick little kid. This morning Otto and I did Christmas with his family, and then we came back home, picked up my kids, did gifts here (except for Chickadee, who finally admitted to feeling unwell after refusing to open her presents and causing me to suspect that she was DYING) and cooked Christmas dinner.
Sure, I might have preferred that Monkey not immediately chime in with “AMEN!” the second I paused while saying Grace (I was thinking), and perhaps it would’ve been a bit more soothing if Chickadee had eaten more than two forkfuls of cranberry sauce for dinner, but all in all, I cannot complain.
Besides, I made popovers. You cannot be unhappy in the presence of popovers; that’s a scientific fact. (You can TRY to be unhappy, but the butter congealing in your veins will make it very difficult to follow through. Believe me.)
Anyway, we are SUPPOSED to go see my family tomorrow—in fact, before we knew Chickadee was sick, we were thinking of leaving tonight—but much depends on whether or not the child is well. If she is well, we’ll go. If she isn’t, well, she’ll have to be sold. (Juuuust kidding. Who would buy a kid who’s burning up with fever and wants to eat your freckles?)
In the meantime, I am content to just sit still for a little while and scarf down Emergen-C in hopes of keeping the germs at bay. Unfortunately, my throat is already scratchy and my nose is snuffly. But—thanks to the magic of popovers—I do not care.