Boogie Fever

Miss Erin came down with a case of the creeping crud that woke her up pre-dawn this morning. She was drippy, stuffy, had swollen eyes, and a cough that was all kinds of productive. Her appointment meant cutting short the morning walk, but at least an abortive attempt was made to squeeze in a little exercise. We arrived at the pediatrician's office, saw our usual doctor, and left with our lollipops to drop off Miss Libby's prescription.
Erin is not really a child who will allow one to nurse her back to health. I cite the visit to my in-laws house where she was up with a stomache bug in the middle of the night. The only reasons the Grands knew she had been up sick was because big sister found the, um... mess and reported it. My mother-in-law was appalled that Erin had failed to awaken an adult during the night, "to be with her while she was sick". My response? "What were you going to do? Watch?" (Yes, it would've meant the mess was cleaned up sooner.) Because I know this kid is sometimes intensely private, and she definitely would not appreciate an audience while heaving away in worship at the porcelain altar. She did not wake her Gram out of this extreme self-consciousness, but also because she is rather remarkably conscientious.
With the night-time tummy escapades, she would have disrupted everyone in the household's sleep had she summoned an adult. Today, she was terribly upset at the doctor's office. There were tear-filled eyes threatening to spill over in the waiting room. Not because she felt awful, or because she did not want to see the M.D., but because her brother's party is tomorrow. Her main concern was not causing her brother's birthday party to be rescheduled or exposing his friends to boogie fever. She amazes me. I love that this little girl who has yet to achieve double-digit age would put her brother's pleasure above her own health and comfort. Some of that is because she is just sweet as can be, but it also tells me that she is completely secure in the belief that she will be cared for fully, helping to turn her thoughts from self to others.
And she still wants no part of my nursing. Reminding her to drink extra fluids, doling out her medications, reaching the Kleenex on the high shelf, and getting her to the doctor are about all she will tolerate of my interference in her illness.