Spring Fever

Jarrah is home from school today with a little cough and a low fever and is being a complete diva about it. She came in at 6:30 and said she was "soooo hungry!" and though my reflex was to banish her back to her room, about three seconds later I hauled myself up and made her a platter that was missing only a carnation in a bud vase.

Of course she didn't touch it. But when I got up a bit later and asked how she was feeling, she parried with "Where are we going today?" Which is no surprise, because I have a tradition of taking her out to a matinee when she's sick, where she inhales a huge popcorn and bag of candy and generally seems completely cured by the time the movie ends.

She wouldn't touch any food, and refused her "orange chewy" (our name for children's Motrin tablets) but moaned about how much her stomach hurt for the next several hours. I tried to explain that her stomach hurt because she hadn't eaten in 16 hours, but that didn't strike her as relevant. I asked her repeatedly to blow her nose, which I patiently explained would help the cough. Who ever heard of a child who passes the developmental milestone of learning how to blow her nose, but then begins refusing on conscientious objector grounds? She once told me "I don't like that feeling, of snot coming through my nose."

As a lifelong sinus sufferer, I wanted to grip her arm and shriek "Are you crazy? There's no better feeling! It's the best feeling in the entire world!"

She fell asleep mid-morning, and woke up a bear. A small, cute bear, but a bear just the same. She refused all food and drink until I offered to feed her some rice and peanut sauce, which she allowed, finishing it all. Then she announced that we'd be going to the library for the third Harry Potter movie, and to make sure I didn't get distracted, she followed me to the computer to direct my library search.

At the library, the third Harry Potter movie was not available. We ended up with The Secret Garden and Kit Kittredge, American Girl. I suggested we cross the street and stroll through The Costco Buffet, which was mightily resisted in concept, until there was an opportunity to put away a hot dog, chicken sandwich, granola, yogurt bar, shrimp scampi and cup of almond milk in a five-minute period. Then it was alright.

When we got home, she settled in with a movie and a Costco pastry as big as her head (which she finished) and all seemed well. But then she lifted her head from the pillow and said "Because I'm sick, I need you to make me chicken soup for dinner." And did I point out that I was making tortellini with homemade cream sauce because I know she loves it? Readers, I did not. I made the chicken soup.

She refused to come to the table. Then she refused to eat soup. After I fed her some soup, she allowed me to feed her the rest. Then she decided she needed to eat standing up. When I objected, she said "You should only say nice things to me when I'm sick." A moment later, she shoved her strawberries and cream away (even though I'd agreed to make it "mostly cream, hardly any strawberries" and said "I'm leaving!"

She demanded we draw a bath ("But you just had one this morning!" "I'm sick--a bath would be good for me.") and now she's in there even though I had hoped she'd be asleep by now. I'd like to say that I hoped she'd be asleep because she needs her rest. But I think it's really because I'm worried that next I'll be peeling her grapes while fanning her.

And what really worries me is, did she get all this from me?