Falling-out bits, uneaten.

Young Noisie is home from school today with a virus. I knew she had one coming, because she usually really loves school, but she's been trying to get out of it for the last two days. Last night she hopped into bed with me. Her temperature was really high (I don't know how high. When Polly was little we used to rush her off to the hospital becasue her head felt warm, only to wait three hours to be told there was nothing wrong with her and that she had no temperature. I think that's something to do with only checking their foreheads when I think they're sick, so I've really no idea how hot they're supposed to feel when they're not. But because I'm a far more neglectful parent than I used to be, I no longer subject myself to the eye-rolling of hospital staff whenever I think one of my kids has a temperature. So when I say the kid had a temperature, just take my word for it, ok?).

So anyway, Noisie had a really high temperature last night. I know this because she was speaking even more nonsense than usual. All night she was muttering things like "That timing's not right", and "There's a matter". I mostly managed to ignore her.

(Really, the child does require ignoring on a regular basis. Last night, in exasperation at the high number of juvenile voices ranting at one time and at maximum volume, I made the understandable suggestion that "Will you all. Shuuuuut. Uuuuuuuuup?", hopefully in a voice not completely devoid of maternal affection. Noisie said aghast, amidst the downward-winding roar, "Oh. Mum. You said the F word."

Q: I what, dear?
N: You said the F word.
Q: Er, the F word? What F word did I say?
N: (soto voce) Shut up.
Q: That's the F word?
N: It's one of them.

You get my drift. Sometimes it's best just to ignore them.)

All night I mostly just shoved her further down under my armpit, until morning when I acquired enough consciousness to find the fridge and rattle a bottle of panadol out of the back of it. She's been fine, since, except for being rather pink around the edges.

However, and this leads me to my main point, lunch at home, consisting of a Hungry Jacks baguette, of which I did not eat the falling-out bits, replaced an otherwise planned and brightly anticipated lunch with the delightful Ms Blackberry, at which I most certainly would have eaten the falling out bits, if her recommendation of said unrequited luncheon, at the recommended luncheoning establishment, was up to scratch, as to the veracity of which I have no doubt.