07 February 2006

It's the Fingers' Fault

It wasn’t an overindulgence of blueberries. She had a stomach bug, and it went around. Over the next week, every 48 hours, it got me then our nanny-share family. It was only 24-hours for each of us, but I nearly cried to go to the Emergency in the three sweaty, chilly, moaning hours before I finally careened over the proverbial porcelain. I did feel much better afterwards- just like everyone always says. Birth excepted, last week’s puke fest was my third in over 15 years. I suppose it is a glimpse of the good bugs to come from having a child who sticks her fingers in other children’s drooly mouths and snooty noses, and various undersides of benches, corners of dirty floors, whatever! as often as she can.

Today she was digging in the pebbles near the bird sanctuary at the lake when she was approached by a goose. Being the good mother I am, I immediately started taking pictures without ever giving thought to shoo the creature away. It was probably almost her weight and looking for a handout. Stella turned with a pebble and the goose thought it was morsel of something good. Nipped her little fingers. Naturally being the good mother I am, I started to laugh. The goose went in for more and got her other hand. Now I know in some corner of my intellect that they can be nasty creatures, but I also spent half my childhood luring squirrels to the sliding glass door with my outstretched hand. So I can forget sometimes that wild animals and babies might not be the best mix. With the left hand nibbled and her mother laughing harder, she cried. My sensible mama friend told that goose where to go, and I got Stella and kissed away the double insults.

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