BittyPrincess had a fever yesterday; it was pretty dramatic overnight but by midmorning she was running around only slightly crankier and more tired than usual. Getting 13 hours of sleep two nights running, when she averages a measly 8 (for a child her age this is a downright anemic sleep schedule) should perhaps have been a tip-off that she was getting sick. Either way, I skipped my clinic rounds for the day based on how hot she'd been burning in the night/morning, and settled in for a day of complete crankass bickering from my children. Sure makes me want to stay home with them...
Anyway, by evening I thought she was basically better. As I finished up our bookreading (Twelve Days of Christmas, but whatever, I let them do the picking) and everyone started getting settled in, BittyPrincess sat up in bed, leaned forward, and in high dramatic wide-eyed take-over-the-world fashion, said "I know how to make PEOPLE." She then settled happily into her bed, apparently prepared to dream about miniature-bitty-princess army creation.
Well, what a downright spooky thing for a 4 year old to say.
Not that I haven't occasionally been accused of plotting to take over the world, just that I never considered shooting people out my vagina to populate those plots. Or, that's not the intended purpose of my children, anyway.
And of all the million little unexpected consequences of this whole midwifery gig on my children, I didn't really think evil-army-creation was going to be on the table. Overly detailed information about all things baby-making (and all consequences involved), yes. Inability to make iron-clad plans for days with the kids, yes. A little too much talk about vaginas and birth in public places...ability to say words like "nipple" and "vagina" without blushing...disconnect/lack of understanding about how 99% of the population does this whole family-making thing...all expected consequences.
Luckily, this morning, the evil army is made of paper cutouts.
Tinidazole, Day 2.
1 day ago