Nothing kills a family’s momentum like a sick toddler. Two weeks ago, we thought NK might have the chicken pox (they do not vaccinate here, just let everyone get sick), and she had about ten small spots, which disappeared in a day.
Talk about easy.
Then the fever came. Just a cold or flu or something, not the dreaded childhood disease, but this little girl has never been sicker, four straight days on the couch, her fever rising and falling, barely eating, her parents begging her to eat ice cream.
It is over now. But my head is not quiet, two jarring sounds echoing, probably forever.
The first is the vacuum. The baby still needs the vacuum to stay asleep for more than 20 minutes. His older sister was sick, so we never left our small little half-painted, cluttered with IKEA boxes home, which meant the vacuum stayed on for hour after hour after hour.
Shhhh. I can hear it now. No, wait that is a helicopter over the Sweden-Denmark game down the street.
Then there is Angelina Ballerina, the British dancing mouse. We have books that NK loves, and she watched some on youtube. But then we found an Angelina Ballerina tape, in Swedish. And the feverish marathon began, for all TV rules went out the window, anything to keep her calm and resting.
We have watched it, oh, maybe 50 times now. Usually with the vacuum on.
And I learned that when NK learns characters in one language, they stick. So all the Angelina Ballerina people are in English, no matter the video marathon in Swedish. And I can not get her to say “Winnie the Pooh” in English. No, he is Nalle Puh in Swedish and it will stay that way forever.
I heard the sounds of dancing, vacuum and toddler crying in the shower today.
I turned the water off.
No, they are in my head.