Norah is sick. Nothing serious--she has had a gross cold for about two weeks ago and it is progressively getting worse, not better. About a week ago she developed a hacking cough and has kept us up all night the past two nights because she's been hacking up a lung. I have her cooties and am feeling similarly crummy, so we treated ourselves to Jamba Juice this morning. They have one now that is just fruit, juice, and ice, and she sucked it right down. And then promptly barfed. I thought it might be a good idea to take her temperature--and she had one--so the advice nurse had us come in. The doc gave us the very general diagnosis of 'sinusitis' which basically means she has a cold that isn't going away. He also thought her ears were on the 'brink' of being infected, and sure enough after her nap she was digging in them, so we're probably already there.
We went to the grocery store for her antibiotic and to get some sick provisions. We are so, so, so fortunate that with very few minor exceptions, Norah has been extraordinarily healthy since she was born. Because of that, when she does get sick, we still get to make a big deal out of it--buy popsicles, snuggle on the couch, watch Sesame Street, etc.
After we got our stuff I was buckling her in the car seat and she licked my hand. She cracked up and then licked it again. The following is our conversation about it:
Me: Did you just lick my hand?
Norah: Yes, yes, YES!
Me: Why would you lick my hand, silly girl?
Me: I taste yummy? That's nice. What do I taste like?
[I take that as a compliment]
Then she held out her hand so I could lick it.
Me: [Licking] Hmmm. You taste like snot. And cracker.