Birdie has been a little under the weather all week. We think she's had one or more of her second-year molars coming in for a while. (She can often be spotted with her hand crammed as far into her mouth as it will go, or with a finger hooked in there, pulling the side of her mouth back in the process and making her look like some sort of hapless puppy hound dog.) Besides that, her nose started running a bit on Monday. She was not so sick that she needed to stay home, but sick enough that she was not at full YEAH! strength and was helped a bit by regular doses of yummies, as the bambini's medicine is known at Raleigh House. One night, the yummies dosing cup was hiding from us in the dish drying rack, so we winged it with the next best thing: a shot glass. Certain of our readers might be further amused to note that it is a Dave & Buster's shot glass, which dates from Julie and Ted's years at Northwestern, the last time Julie at least, could have been drug to what is effectively an adult Chuck E Cheese. (Sadly, Clara's hand is obscuring the D&B logo in this picture.)
So we were mucking along (clearly--really mucking) until Friday afternoon when the folks at KinderCare called Julie to say that Clara had woken up from her nap and promptly vomited all over the place. She was, apparently, in fine spirits! But she had vomited hither and yon. Not long after the first time, it happened a second time. Ted had taken the afternoon off and was already on his way. He arrived to find her in a stunning it's-clear-I've-been-sick-or-am-potty-training ensemble: a pair of too small lavender fleece pants, and a too big, royal blue, KinderCare summer camp tee. The pants were 18 month, and the tee a small--like a youth, post #T sizes, small. But, as you will note, she medaled. Podiumed? Or is that lingo so four-years-ago-in-Berlin?
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