I spent all day yesterday taking care of two children—one of them three years old, the other thirty-two— a perfect waste of a sunny Sunday. They are both sick with some unknown bug, and though my husband stumbled off to the office this morning, I am stuck at home with the smaller, much more whiny patient.
She wants nothing more than to watch episodes of Old School Sesame Street on DVD, curl up in my lap, and breathe the Plague directly into my nostrils. I am determined to get her well and back in preschool as soon as possible. So I am feeding her good things, in hopes of hastening recovery.
We made Nigella’s Breakfast Bruschetta for lunch, another perfectly good and speedy recipe from her 2007 book, Nigella Express. The sick patient, who hadn’t eaten all morning, scarfed it down and said (stuffy-nosed and gratefully), “Thanks, Mob. I sure lub abocado.”
One healthy lunch and a dose of Children’s Motrin later, and she was passed out in bed for two hours. Score.
1 comment:
Usually it's my 37 year old that whines more. I hope she feels better and you don't get the bug.
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