The Devil Inside… My Kitchen

Little Miss Junior woke up with a devilish grin this morning…. At 6:10am.  I knew she was finally feeling better.  LMJ has been sick for the last week.  Very sick.  She had infections in both ears, she’s been a walking fluid dispenser – eyes, nose, mouth, and she’s had fevers, high fevers, for almost a week.  Given her history of neutropenia, we’ve been to the doctor’s twice, and the hospital, and are happy to report that all is well.  Yes, her temp hit 104 a few days ago but she’s endured it well.  At 104 degrees I’d be a muttering prone zombie.  LMJ was mostly a muttering stumbly zombie looking to wipe her yucky face on the cleanest shirt of mine she could find.  Her normally mischievous personality has been subdued by illness.

So this morning when she stood up in her crib with a devilish grin and a gleam of mayhem in her eye, I knew she was finally feeling much better.  Her fever broke over a day ago and apparently it’s time for her to get back to the things she loves best – giving me grief.  You see LMJ sleeps in for Red.  For some reason if she wakes up pre-7am she will take a bottle and often go back to bed for Red for another hour or two.  Not for me.  Red says it’s because she knows I’m a softy.  I’ve tried the same routine, change her diaper, get her a bottle, tell her she should get some more rest.  No dice.  She stands in her crib and either wails bloody murder, or croons ‘daaaaaa daaaaaaa’….. ‘daaaaaa daaaaaaa’… and yes, I’m a softy, in I go.

Top signs that LMJ is feeling much better:

-She pulled our television speaker bar down on top of herself yesterday… speaker grill breaking off, wires everywhere, LMJ in tears while daddy scrambled to detangle her.  Hmm, perhaps she’s getting back to her old self

-Morning breakfast is over when she unilaterally swipes all food off her tray and hurls it around the kitchen in delight.  “Honey, we don’t throw food on the floor, are you all done?  Or do you want more?”  She takes another blueberry from my hand, looks at me defiantly, and hucks it to the floor.  Then calmly stands up in her high chair and signs “all done”.  Yeah kid thanks, got it.

-While daddy is cleaning up breakfast from the kitchen floor (why won’t the dog eat blueberries?), LMJ sidles over to the hallway and starts pulling all of her big sisters socks and underwear out from a bag we leave at the bottom of the stairs.  I look over and she’s carefully pulling apart each set of folded socks and hurling them around.  I tell her no and she hucks a pair of underwear past the child gate down the stairs.  Then she points at it proudly and shouts at me “baaaa”.  As if to say, “pick that up manservant”.  Yes, she’s definitely perking up.

The good news is that LMJ is still teething hardcore, and taking antibiotics that are flushing through her system like some bad seafood… so while her fever has broken and she’s back to mischief, she’s still feeling cranky enough to scream at us a lot.  So there’s that.  As I’m on my hands and knees to pick up the handful of blueberries that LMJ has flung under the kitchen table, she strolls over to show me a sock she’s not supposed to have, and then delightedly runs in the opposite direction shouting “DAAADAAAA”.  Don’t think I won’t remember this when you ask to borrow the car in 2030 kid.


One thought on “The Devil Inside… My Kitchen

  1. Ah yes, good times. Im sure when we are 60 and our kids are having the same issues with our grandchildren, we will laugh ourselves stupid. That is the only thing that keeps me going some day. That and the knowledge of the nekkid baby pictures I can embarrass them with!

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