Friday morning, Ava woke up saying that her forehead hurt. She had a very slight fever, and seemed otherwise fine, so I decided to observe her, acutely aware that it was Friday, meaning the doctor’s office would be closed for the next 2 days. She was in good spirits, and her fever went down, as did the forehead pain, but she would not eat anything. Even Fruit Snacks, which are basically fortified fruit flavored gummy bear type things that have a whole section in the grocery store which I was completely unaware of for years until Ava became a toddler. Now I use them like currency. Anyway, she left a whole package uneaten on the table, which was a sure sign that something was wrong, since I usually have to keep them under lock and key. She also took a nap, and when she woke up she was officially MISERABLE. Crying and whining, and saying that her forehead hurt. She did not have a fever, and I felt silly, but I called the doctor’s office, only to be told that no, there was nothing that they could do for her (I was thinking maybe an MRI might be a good option, you know, just to be absolutely sure) and to watch her, and if it would make me (ME) feel better, she could be seen on Monday. I declined the offer, aware of the subtext: we think you are neurotic, Mrs. Day…and bundled her up and sent her outside since it was the nicest day of the year. 60s and sunny. In fact, I moved almost the entire house outside. We had a great rest of the day—Peter came home and we all walked the golf course. Ava rode her tricycle that has a little push bar for the parent to control, and Peter indulged her in a few donuts on some of the greens, which made me nearly die of fear that some golf course guy was going to arrest us, but the greens survived and so did we. It was so nice, I almost served dinner outside. And Ava really seemed well.

And she woke up the next morning pretty much fine. No complaints about the head, no fever, no worries. Yes, she wanted to go skiing, yes, she wanted to eat, yes, she wanted to play outside. So, we all went to the mountain for some spring skiing on the bunny slope. Ava and Peter went outside, and Carter and I joined them for the send off, and that is when I noticed it was starting to sort of rain. That “did I just feel a drop?” type of rain. Nothing to worry about. I turned my back on them, walked back to the lodge, went upstairs to the window and looked out upon what can officially be described as a deluge. People were running at full tilt back to the lodge to escape the downpour, and there through the horizontal water streaming past the window, I could just make out Peter and Ava at the top of the hill. They got down quickly, and were remarkably dry thanks to helmets and other gear, and Ava was utterly thrilled by the excitement. We packed everything back up into the car, Carter had a fit when her realized he was going back in his seat, and Ava, Carter and I drove back to Saranac Lake. We grabbed lunch at the Lake View Deli, which consisted of an entire ham and cheese sandwich for Ava, further testament to her health, and went home. Two hours later, Ava lost her mind. She started crying—and I mean crying—and saying that her ear and her forehead hurt. I took her temperature, 99.3, and gave her some Tylenol. She then proceeded to cry “ow ow ow ow ow ow mooooommmmmmyyy my ear hurts ooohhhhhhhh ow ow ow ow” nonstop. I told her that the Tylenol would take a few minutes to kick in, but she just kept howling long after I expected a result. Then I took her temperature and it was 100.7, a full degree higher. This was about when she started to ask me if we could go to the doctor. By the time we were all in the car and on our way to the urgent care center, she had been sobbing or moaning for a full 2 hours. We got there only to find that they did not take our insurance, so I took my sobbing child and my angry car-seat-hating infant to the ER. Her fever was now nearly 103, very high for Ava, and she was just a little lump on top of the bed in the exam room. I told nearly every human being that I saw that she was allergic to penicillin. They gave us some Motrin, and within ½ hour, she was perking up. I wish I had thought of Motrin. However, it is probably better that she was seen, because when the very nice doctor did come in and look in her ears, she definitely had a bad ear infection. I reminded the doctor that she was allergic to penicillin, and he put us on Zithromax, reminding us that it caused upset stomachs. Which is an understatement, given the projectile vomiting toddler experience that a certain mommy friend happened to have last year. Ava remained in good spirits through the drug store, all the way home, and curled up next to me while I was putting Carter down—the only hint that she might be a bit under the weather was that she drifted off to sleep next to me, without any fanfare (read:nursing). However, one hour later she started whimpering, and her head felt warm. Then it felt hot, and now it feels scalding. She just randomly got up and circled the room, clearly looking to somehow shed her discomfort. She pushed me away, and just sort of shook until she landed on her toddler bed. After I got her tucked in, I left to get the Motrin. By the time I got back, she was asleep again. I think it is going to be a long night.

Meanwhile, Carter has solved the mystery of the sippy cup. He figured out that it has this wonderful sugary drinkable stuff in it that is like nothing else he has ever experienced. His face was one of pure awe, then joy. Then he would not let it go.

Ava woke up again around 11 PM, and I managed to get the Motrin in her. At that point her underarm temperature was 101, meaning it really was somewhere around 103. At 3 AM, she got up, cool as a cucumber, ready to take on the world. She hopped out of bed and marched straight to the refrigerator, with me in hot pursuit. A bit of juice later, we were back in bed. This morning, it is like nothing ever happened.