Sick Girls

The girls are sick!  Poo-ey!  Emily has a wet cough, no fever.  Jordan has a super running nose, cough, and water eyes, no fever.  I hate it when they are that in between sick.  Not sick enough for the doctor, but sick enough to keep them from doing some of their regularly scheduled activities.

We kept Jordan home...or should I say Nini kept her home...from school today.  She was not pleased with this but I'm sure we would've gonna a call to come get her.  Plus, I hate it when parents sent their kids to school so sick they can't even function normally.  It's inconsiderate to the teacher and kids.    I told her if she rested well, drank lots of water, and took her cough medicine like a big girls, she MIGHT be well enough for school on Friday.  I'm just hoping she's well enough for swim lessons, which start on Saturday.  Oh crud!  I just remembered she has dance tomorrow...maybe we'll keep her home from that too.  Hate to get the other ballerina's sick.

I can't believe how much Emily is talking now.  When I got home I set Em up in her highchair with some fruit snacks so I could fold the laundry.  She says, "Mom?  Look.  Shirt?"  I take this to mean, "Hey Mom, what are you doing to that shirt?".  So I answer, "Yup, this is Mommy's shirt.  I'm folding it to put it away." To which she answers, "Mom?  Look.  Shirt?".  Broken record but I love it.

I tend to eat after the girls have had their supper so that I can eat while my food is still hot.  I was eating my pizza and drinking my diet coke in the living room.  Emily walks up and reaches out for my drink.  "I...?" (which means ice).  "Yes, you can have some ice."  I start to reach in my cup to retrieve an ice cube and she starts shaking her head back and forth. "Don't you want ice?"  She continues and reaches to grab the cup for herself.  "No Em.  Mommy will hold it."  I watch as her face crumbles, her fists ball up angerily, she stomps a few feet away.  She stands with her feet spread apart firmly, her arms straightened at her sides, fists clenched.  She lets her head fall back and lets out a long discontented moan; mouth wide open, eyes sqeezed just....crocodile tears.

Oh man...that's pitiful, I thought to myself.  She then stomped over to the child sized arm chair and plopped down to pout.  She sat over there with her little bulldog lip sticking out for a while staring me down as I drank from my cup.  After a few seconds, she came back over and said, "Sip, please." While signing please.  I guess the drink was worth her dropping the 'tude.