Kissing Her on the Forehead, Too

I walked in the door from preschool registration on Tuesday night, took one look at Jemma, and could tell she had a fever.  Her eyes had that glassy, glossy look.  I was up with her a few times that night, just rocking her in the chair while she coughed, letting her slurp purple ibuprofen from the little cup, smelling her grapey breath while I scratched her back.

We've been in the house together, mostly, these last two days, just her and me.  She stayed in her jammies all day yesterday.  We had to cancel her playdate with the adorable MC, called in sick to school this morning, missed getting to meet Miss Kelly's little bundle of joy.  What we have done, though - Playmobil, Memory, watercolors, puzzles, yoga, Sesame Street, making green smoothies she refuses to drink, lounging in bed with a pile of books - has been great in its own little way.  She was sick enough to opt out of the world but not so sick that she was prone on the couch.  And even though by 4:00 this afternoon, I was ready for her to be magically cured, sick days with a four-year-old schmoo can be fun sometimes, too.