I have since learned that this is mostly true, unless one of those kids is sick. Then it's like having 98 kids.
Sweet Violet recently had a strep throat-like virus. It made her not so sweet. Harper described her as this:
I have no idea what that actually means, but I understand the sentiment. And man was she grumpy. She had a fever, her throat hurt, she was hungry and tired. She screamed out in pain every time she tried to swallow something. Most of the day consisted of her asking for something to eat. Taking a bite. Crying uncontrollably. Declaring she no longer likes the food she just took a bite of, and asking for something else, which started the cycle over.
At one point she asked for a gummy vitamin. She put it in her mouth, it hurt, she took it back out. But instead of proclaiming her hatred for it, she held it in her hand, unable to eat it but unwilling to throw it away.
Naturally it ended up here:
By day three of the virus, her mouth hurt so bad she had stopped talking and resorted to non-verbal cues to let us know what she was thinking.
When Nick came home from work, he innocently suggested she take a drink of her medicine. She walked over and punched him in the eye.
We decided to try a different approach to get her to take it. We set it on the table, and told her when she was ready to feel better, she could come take her medicine.
Her scrawny behind walked to the bathroom and pulled the solid wood step stool from there to the kitchen counter. The she walked over to the table, grabbed the cup of medicine, walked back to the counter, climbed up the stool and poured it down the sink.
She made eye contact with us the whole time she was pouring.
Getting her to nap in her bed while sick was proving near impossible, but she deemed the baby cradle and the floor suitable alternatives.
Her sleep was often interrupted, which means my sleep was often interrupted. In my sleep-deprived state, I didn't ask questions when Harper told me her new role at preschool.
"The class voted me Class Boss," she said on the way to school.
"That's awesome honey," I replied, half in a fog.
When we got to her class, I was signing Harper in at the clipboard when I mentioned her new role to the teacher.
"So Harper tells me she's Class Boss," I said to her.
She stared back blankly. Then she blinked and stared again.
"The class didn't vote her Class Boss?" I said, finally listening to my words. Why in God's name would a group of four-year-olds vote someone boss, I thought.
"They voted her Weather Checker," her teacher said.
"And that consists of..." I asked for clarification. I wondered how Harper jumped from "Weather Checker" to "Class Boss" in her head.
"It consists of going to the window, checking the weather and telling the class," she said.
I've got nothing. Maybe Harper has a future in resume writing. #ladyboss
Luckily Beau was a good sport while I tended to Violet's every need. Here he is happily swinging:
eAnd here he is patiently waiting to be held:
As I'm writing this, Violet is no longer sick and no one else seems to have caught it. But just to get back at her for acting like a crazy person, I'm not going to tell her about her dress...
