Last week my gorgeous girl was not herself. An evil sick bug took hold of her, and she barely moved for two days, couldn’t keep any food or drink down, and so by the second day, didn’t really speak either as she was so tired and without energy. You can read about the delights of one of those days for me here.
I hate to see my children ill, of course. Any common childhood illness is horrible, but my absolute least favourite is always a sick bug. It wipes them out, is a nightmare to keep up with with cleaning and washing and watching them to try and grab the bowl in time, otherwise it’s yet another bath and yet another hair clean. And there’s the constant nagging worry that at any hour, another of us could be struck down with it, too. Hate it.
On Saturday, things started to look up, as her temperature came back down, it’d been several hours since she’d last been sick and she was keeping down her drinks and a little bit of breakfast. Phew, the tide had turned. Which meant that to have her ask to do some drawing with Daddy felt momentous and I was so happy to see her there at the table, albeit somewhat pale still.
Sometimes she drives me mad with her constant energy and incessant chatter, but at times likes this, all I want is my crazy, wilful, daughter back. And thankfully, this moment marked the start of that.