Last night Annabelle woke up with a fever and then threw up. A little hustle and bustle, a bed swap and she was soon settled next to me in bed, with Dave having an overnight in her room. I checked on her several times and she was sweaty, but sleeping soundly.
In the morning I was up at six am and reveled in a whole hour by myself, getting ready as usual. I even had time to make some bacon! Just as I was about to sit down to breakfast, I heard Annabelle's little feet padding around the corner. She hugged me and then wiped her nose on her sleeve, and a big streak of red told me she had a bloody nose.
Annabelle :: There's jam in my nose!
The run to the bathroom was quick, but by the time I returned my bacon was all burned and smoking up the house. Then, too many things to fit in and I was nearly late to school this morning. All morning I kept smelling burned bacon waft from my sweater.
I arranged some substitutes for the rest of the day and returned to find Annabelle happy and healthy, having a fun resting day at home. We curled up and slept together all afternoon. She awoke feeling all better, I awoke knowing that I had caught her little bug.
Funny how becoming sick can assuage the guilt of taking a sick day when you are healthy.
We unpacked a couple more boxes, rearranged the kitchen cupboards, sorted through the silverware. We set out some Christmas decorations. Annabelle drew pictures of houses and trees with my colored pencils. We played card games on the kitchen floor.
There was one constant through all of this activity: Annabelle's newly developed propensity for saying the word "poop".
As of late, if Annabelle does not receive something that she has asked for (whether nicely or rudely) she will look at you out of the corner of her eye and quietly say, "Poopy" with a frown. I cannot help but remember when she was two years old and began to use the word "Deedee" as a swear word of sorts, throwing out the same look and frown and quietly saying, "Deedee" whenever she didn't get what she wanted. Now the name calling is more obvious, though just as annoying.
If the situation escalates she becomes far more direct, "You poopy! Poopy, poopy, poop, POOP!" And will then mutter to herself, "Poopy peepee poopy peepee." It's quite something.
And like most parents, I have a tendency to believe that she didn't come up with this all by herself, but learned it from another child at school. I love believing that, even in the face of Annabelle telling me that no one at school says it ever, ever, just her.
On the other hand, Annabelle's teacher just called me to say that the recent stories that the children have been hearing about Saint Nicholas have really been affecting Annabelle and she has shared with the class that she wants to give a few gifts to the other children and those in the nursery. She particularly mentioned her birthday crown that I sewed for her a couple years ago that has become too small to wear.
Sometimes it is funny to be Annabelle's mother... getting called names one minute, and so amazed by her generosity the next.
