And of course, since we teach our children to share, after a 10 day incubation period, she promptly passed her illness on to me.
I was sick as a dog with fever, chills, and a nasty cough. As C was winding down for the evening, he heard coughing emitting from the sick, sad lump curled up under the sheets. Without saying a word, he scurried to the bathroom, filled a glass full of water, and hurried to my bedside. "Here mama, for your cough," C said. That was the best medicine of all. Whetted my sore throat and melted my heart.
M has been working on reading stamina in 2nd grade. They practice Read to Someone and also Read to Self. They are challenged to increase their reading time on each attempt. Read to Someone typically happens on the couch after dinner, with any variety of books on hand. However, M is content with a single book for Read to Self, as she curls up in bed each night: Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. A gift from my good friend O, M reads this book with so much anticipation and concentration. In fact, during a week that her teacher expected a stamina of 12 minutes, M read for over 20!
To honor this amazing poet, whose words enchant my daughter many a night, and whose poem consoles me during this bout of illness, I give you Sick by Shel Silverstein:
"'I cannot go to school today, '
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
'I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more-that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut-my eyes are blue-
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke-
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is-what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is...Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!'"