Max came home from school with a fever today. Sarah got the call at 11:20 and was at his side within 20 minutes, and she watched him bounce home ahead of her and wondered about the diagnosis.
His forehead felt fine, and he looked fine, so she gave him lunch and set him up for a nap and asked why, as Miss Lillian had reported, he laid down on the playground during playtime, then again on the carpet when the class went back inside. Miss Lillian’s right, after all. That’s not like Max.
Turns out the devil’s in the details. Turns out Max doesn’t have a fever after all. Turns out they had an exercise in democracy at the Enriching Hour today, a vote between Red Rover Red Rover and Teacher Teacher What Time Is It, and Red Rover won, which meant that Max lost. So did Isabella, but she apparently shrugged and got on with the business of Red Rover. Max, on the other hand, gave himself the rest of the morning off.
Sarah too, come to think of it.
Mia’s got another drawbridge tooth. It’s the front bottom left one, the only front tooth she’s got in her mouth, and it folds down like a movie theater seat, and Sarah can barely look without turning white. Not sure why that is, since we have that at one point or another, but Sarah says that teeth aren’t supposed to do that, and really, she’s right.
There’s another one shifting too — the right front…whatever the one next to the front teeth are is. And with the top two probably six months away from coming in, and with the bottom front two also looking sluggish, we’re starting to grapple with the possibility that Mia won’t have any more teeth by the time spring arrives. Which means she gets to eat all the candy she wants. Because. I mean.
Last week I took her and her brother to the dentist, and they did terrific — the promise of toys and stickers always puts them on their best behavior. Still, the reality of the dentist may finally be settling in. When the hygienist tried to move her tongue aside to look at the inside of her molars, Mia squealed and recoiled, and the woman reflexively pulled away. When the hygienist turned away to look for a new tool, Mia turned to her and, with all the stern authority of a cop, said very simply, “Don’t do that.”
