Thursday, January 31, 2008
The Joys of Feverish Conversations
If there is a bright side to whirling dervish being sick, it might be the interesting conversation that occurs from the combination of the lack of sleep and feverish delirium.
And then there's the little one's symptoms. Ba-doom bah! I'm here all week, folks!
But seriously, between valiantly forcing liquids down his gullet, leaning over a small trash can and his numerous requests to watch Noggin, we had the following conversation (and don't ask me how I remember it word for word -- let's just leave it at Special Mommy Powers, shall we?)
"Mommy! I hot!"
"I know Babe, try to go back to sleep"
"But I want Noggin. Hey my boo-boo is all gone!" (referring to the lip injury he sustained earlier that day when his sister abruptly gave in and let go of the toy he forcefully demanded.)
"I see, how do you think that happened?"
"Because da elapunt is too big to go in da volcano."
"Hmmm . . . not because Jesus healed you and made it all better?"
"Nope. I wicked it and it's not dere no more."
"You licked it, huh?"
"Yep. And geraffis have wong necks. And race cars zoom too fast for da spweed wimit."
"I need anudder dwink to get my sick away. But it's not in my mouf."
"Where is it? In your belly?"
"Nope. In my fworeheads."
"You have more than one?!"
"Yep. I have fwee of dem."
"A-ha. I am beginning to see the problem"
"Yeah! 64 Zoo Lane is on a-gin, dat's da pwoblem!"