It had been a long time since one of my daughters was ill, but this weekend Olivia’s number was up.
She started complaining that her stomach was hurting on Saturday afternoon. OK, not so much complaining as letting out a loud chain of whines and cries. Sadly, we know Olivia often tends to exaggerate for attention, and we didn’t really take her seriously at first. For which I feel quite guilty, in retrospect. She said she felt like she might be sick. A few minutes later, turns out she was right.
Now, I understand she was sick and out of sorts. And she’s normally a very bright girl. But I really wish that when we told her to run to the toilet, she had grasped that we meant *stand in front of the toilet*, and not *sit on the toilet*. FAIL.
Whatever you’re picturing, it’s probably accurate.
A couple of loads of laundry later (not to mention some mopping and disinfecting), we realized the tone was set for the weekend. Throw in a fever, and now we’re really having fun.
She’s much better now. Finally managed to hold down some chicken broth, and her complexion is definitely a healthier shade of green.
But lesson learned – next time, specify what to do when arriving at the toilet.