Posted by: raisingmustardseeds | December 5, 2010

Perspective of a (almost) 9 year old

Big Mac came bouncing into my room where I’ve sequestered myself asking if she could get me anything.

Me: No, thank you.

She stood by my bed, staring at me, saying nothing. Uh oh. I know that look.  That slight downturn of the mouth, the huge eyes.

Me: Big Mac, are you ok?

Big Mac still silent, just nods her head, the eyes getting larger.

Me: Big Mac? Are you sure you’re ok? You don’t look ok.

Her mouth quivers, her eyes start to water. Oh dear.

Me: Are you upset?

Nodding of head.

Me: You’re upset that mommy’s sick?

The flood gates open, and the tears start to flow, like only the Big Mac can.

Me: Come here.  (She crawls into bed with me, crying buckets)

I tried to comfort her and assure her that I am ok, even though I’ve been retching like there’s no tomorrow.  That my body does funny things when it’s pregnant, but everything turns out fine in the end.

As we’re talking, I hear Megalos calling for her, and so I hide Big Mac under the blankets (since she probably didn’t want her big sister to know she’d been crying, otherwise she’d get the 3rd degree questioning).  Megalos comes in and I feign ignorance.  She resumes her search in the other parts of the house, and by this time Big Mac is giggling, and happy once more.  I tell her to hurry out to the dining room and not tell her sister where she’s been, even if she asks.

To this day, Megalos has not figured out her secret hiding spot.  It was a precious moment between my middle girl & me.

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