Princess and The Pee

Dying, really, truly, DYING of some kind of horrid bronchial affliction--sadly, not pneumonia, which sounds so deeply tragic, nor consumption, which at least makes you beautiful--I tried to convince my little boy at around 11 that he probably needed to have a rest in order to feel better himself. And I thought I had him; tears of relief welled up as I settled my head into my pillow and gave an exchausted sigh. 20 seconds of silence and peace ensued. Then he began to pound my back with his ice-cold feet. "I tried and tried, but I'm just not tired," I encouraged him to try again. A small finger went into my ear. "There's a hippopotamus in there, Mummy. He's hungry." I assured him I just fed the ear hippo. Silence. "My tummy is gargling." I reminded him that he just had a snack. Silence. "Do frogs have penises?" I told him I was pretty sure they did. "How come Frog in my Frog and Toad stories doesn't have a penis?" I explained that we didn't always draw penises on characters in books because it's not too polite. "Is Jaffar rude for saying 'Shut Up'?" Oh yes, I agreed, yes indeed. "Jaffar doesn't say shut up, Mummy. Alameda Slim says Shut Up. So does Kai. Why?" Because they're rude and don't have good mummies. "But why doesn't Jaffar say Shut Up?" Because he doesn't speak English. "Sure he does." It's a translation, I explain. "Why. . . " GO TO SLEEP, I suggest, not as politely as I might have, really. "That's just rude to talk to me like that, Mummy." I agree, then begin to beg. Please go to sleep so Mummy can have her nap too. Mummy is so old. So very very old. "You have a little nap, I'll just go play in the backyard." I think about it: is two too young to be left alone in the backyard while your ancient, exhausted and ill and tired and old and exhausted and old mother lies abed? While thus pondering, I am attacked by a wild thing that jumps on my stomach and starts hollering "It's a Jolly Holiday with Mary!" After 15 seconds of this, I start rationalizing--if I put my pillow there and that other pillow over here, then I could probably snooze a bit while he leaps on me. Not too bad, really, if I tense my stomach muscles. At least my eyes are closed. And then the wild thing sat on my head and I thought--well, at least I'm sort of being an attentive parent, no one could accuse me of, you know, checking out or anything, even if I am essentially comatose. And then, suddenly, I felt a little warm. Fever, I thought. Damn. Fever again. Will certainly die this time. But when was the last time a fever dripped in your ear. . . . ..

Yep. So we both had a good shower, a good scrub, a good cry in the tub and spent the afternoon doing laundry. One good thing: I pretty much forgot about dying for a few hours. Am back at it this evening, however. At least I have clean hair.