Fighting Over the Sick Cup

Emma is back at school today.  She was actually happy to be going back, though she still looked a little weak to me.  She gave us a scare yesterday when she woke up.  She went straight to the bathroom to try to pull her loose tooth.  Thank God Eric was standing with her because after a few seconds, she passed out.  I was putting breakfast on the table when I heard Eric screaming her name.

Whew.  Scary.

She is so sensitive to medicine, and even though I give her 1/2 doses, she still doesn't react well. 

Today, she is fine.  But, Olivia is home.

Truthfully, Olivia is thrilled to be home.  She has willed herself sick all week because she thinks that earns you certain perks.

Like the sick-cup.

We didn't set out to make this the sick-cup, but my girls have named it that.  When Emma had her tonsillectomy, we gave it to her to drink out of while lying on the sofa.  Olivia cried over it, asking if she had to have her tonsils removed in order to drink out of it. :)

It's just a cup.  We all want what we can't have, right?

Monday morning, when we knew Emma was too sick to go to school, Eric cheered her up by pouring her juice in the sick-cup.  Olivia starting crying (imagine with a deep whine), "When am I gonna get the sick cup? I'm never sick! This is nooooo fair!"

Do you believe me yet about the drama in this house?

So today, Olivia is on the sofa with a fever and the sick-cup.  It's not quite as mellow today because she has a completely different reaction to cough medicine.  She is flat.out.WILD.  She talks a mile-a-minute and about random things.

She's asked me 437 times IN A VERY LOUD VOICE if I like her bedroom slippers.

I woke this morning to her holding my eyelid open and saying, "Morning, Mama.  It's morning so let's talk.  After all, we do have a lot in common".

Yes, we do ... except I like to sleep and CLEARLY YOU DO NOT.

She talked and talked about how she really shouldn't go to school because she has germs and she would get too tired and she really couldn't take raising her hand to talk all day. 

I don't doubt it.  At this rate, Olivia, your arm would be in a sling by dinnertime.