In the wee small hours the fever returned, and the croup reared its ugly head again, and as the wind and rain moved in, dampening and whipping the cobwebbing into a frenzy on the porch, we sat outside on the glider and I just rocked her while she huddled under the down throw and whimpered. We'd visited the doctor yesterday morning, and the medicine that was prescribed for the bronchiolitis hadn't really kicked in yet. Fantasia had been run through, twice, and we were finished making a dent in the sofa cushion for a while. After a bit, she wandered up to bed upstairs and crawled in with Steve, and I watched some of those wonderfully bad commercials for music compilation CDs, with gritty eyes begging me to remove my contact lenses.
This morning, she thumped downstairs with moppety hair and sweaty pajamas. She crawled into my lap, and for over two hours she slept, a paperweight on my own tired limpness. The only problem? Problems? My coffee was just out of reach, and the Halloween candy was all the way across the room.
When Josephine woke up, she cheered up a bit and followed me around while I got ready for work. She offered to pack up a few pieces of candy for me to take, and actually - I became excited. What a sweet little kid! I'd avoided the dreaded Halloween Candy for Breakfast Syndrome, and I really, really wanted some candy.
I came to work, and opened up the bag - eager for a sugar rush to take me through the next part of the day. What did she give me? What did the child I nurtured through the night with my worry and care and love give me?
Five jawbreakers. I know, I know. In her own way, she gave some "beeyoootiful" candies, and lots of them, and she knows that choking hazards like these are for grown-ups only.
But what wouldn't I give for something chocolate - even something nasty with peanuts and gunk in it right now! Is it wrong to be ever so slightly, just a tiny bit, only a little grumpy about having to go six hours with no chocolate now?
