Despite the obvious pitfalls, I kind of like being sick. Syd has been laid up with a fever the last few days and I caught it yesterday. So I'm schooling her on comfort items. Things my mother did to me while I was sick that very likely have absolutely no medicinal value. Chicken soup (Campbell's, of course; as if there were any other kind), 7Up (although Liza dropped the ball and bought Sprite; I can't tell the difference but it's just not the same; plus she bought cans), and throwing a thermometer in her mouth every couple of hours and saying “Tsk, tsk” no matter what it says. I do wish I had brought my copy of The Secret of Nimh from Canada because I like to read it when I'm sick and since I was lucky enough to get sick at the same time Syd is, I could have read it to her.
There are downsides, of course. Syd's not so sick that she feels the need to lie down all day so I have to guard my stomach whenever she gets the “jumpsies”. Plus there's no pleasant way to respond when she's crying on the toilet because her bum hurts and she says, “Why is this happening?” And I have to act as mediator ‘twixt Liza and Syd. Liza usually walks in and declares that Sydney is too cold and piles on three layers of shirts. As soon as she leaves, Syd says she's too hot and we negotiate how many shirts she can take off. (Don't get me started on the ceiling fan.)
So until I recover, here's hoping I don't pass on this disease to my gentle readers through this blog.