That was Luna's temperature Saturday afternoon. Her eyes are glazed over and are oozing green goo. She has that "hot" look, like she's panting. But she is trying to be herself. She'll say something funny, laugh at herself, then go lay down.
Although, not to criticize my darling daughter, she is so not herself because all I've been hearing all weekend is "yes" and "okay". She's sick and understands that mother knows best so she's been so agreeable all day.
"Mama is going to rub some special oil on your feet, " I say.
"It will make your eyes feel better."
"It will be stinky and you may not touch it."
She pauses, just for a second, then whispers with a smile, "Okay."
We snuggled before bed and she said, "Mama, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" (I've never heard her say this before)
"What is it?"
"Papa needs to go to the Barbie bandage store." Apparently, she is out of bandages. Oh, she just makes me want to laugh and cry.
It's time for bed. She walks into her bedroom and I call after her, "I love you very much."
She calls over her shoulder, "I burp."