1m2aSandbox

Sunday night Maddie woke up at 3 a.m. with a fever; I loved on her, told her she couldn’t go to school the next day, and sent her back to sleep. She spent all Monday with no fever and just slight stuffiness, but at bedtime the fever showed back up. Sigh.

Home from school again on Tuesday, and I have to tell you, I’m pretty sure this thing is allergies. I’ve taken Cora to the doctor before for exactly the same symptoms – low to moderate fever, sore throat, slight stuffiness – and she guaranteed me it was allergies. Apparently in addition to causing EVERY OTHER SYMPTOM in the book, allergies can also run a low fever. Which, of course, is not contagious.

But without knowing for certain that it’s allergies, Maddie has to stay home until she’s fever-free. Which means I have one very bored kiddo around the house.

Yesterday I went to Cora’s school as a volunteer art lecturer. No, I’m not that good; it’s part of a district-wide program called Art To Go, where everything’s put together for you – pictures on foam board, questions pre-written, everything – and all you do is show up and look really really cultured. I’ve done this for Maddie’s classes in the past and was looking forward to sitting down and talking about art with Cora’s class for the first time.

Note to self – don’t ask kindergarteners such open-ended questions, and then LET THEM ANSWER THEM.

Maddie discovered Junie B. Jones in kindergarten and we spent a few painful months reading waaaaaaaay too much of that child’s escapades before Maddie finally grew out of the books and moved on to other, more well-written heroines. I was quite pleased to bid Junie B. adieu, and only saved the half-dozen books we’d bought out of sheer thriftiness.

I should have realized I wasn’t finished with the annoying child.

When I was around five years old I was living in New Orleans, happily playing outside one day. Suddenly I noticed a ticklish feeling on my ankle and leg, and looked down and saw a swarm of red fire ants enrobing my lower limb. I stared in fascination, until the pain registered. And then I started screaming.

I remember that day vividly.

When we moved back to Texas four years ago, I celebrated a return to many of my favorite things in the South – excellent margaritas, even better Tex-Mex food, and winters without shoveling the sidewalk. What I did not look forward to, though, was the return to southern bugs, especially chiggers and fire ants.

Monday was a day off school to celebrate Columbus Day and after the whirlwind of the weekend – a women’s retreat for me, birthday parties with school mates, and more – I felt like we deeply needed some unstructured down time together. Time to veg and hang out and play and bake and watch movies.

In other words, a Pajama Day.

I love the changing of the seasons. It doesn’t even really matter which change we’re talking about – I love them all. Every winter I feel a yearning for hanging out on the grass on a warm spring day, watching trees bud and listening to birds sing. Then after a few months of that, I become restless and develop a yen for sunscreen and lazy pool time – those endless days that seem to stretch on forever, when your kids scream and play for hours and you laugh and chat desultorily with your girlfriends.

And then I have a hankering for the fall.