Drug side effects

I park the walking wounded on the sofa and hand her a tablet because the icy-hot has failed to relieve her stiff neck as she lies on the sofa with a mircro-waved heat pad draped around her shoulders.  I return to supper preparations for the starving millions and homework help for the tardy one. 

Her younger brother, the only free agent, is always sympathetic to those with physical impairments, so he pipes up.

 “Why is she?” as he pirouettes in the kitchen, because constant frenetic movement is an aid to speech production.
“Slept in a draught I suspect.”
“It gave her wind?” he asks, as he throws himself onto one counter and then bounces off the next, pin ball style.
“Um… no but it was a bit windy in the cabin so that’s probably why her neck hurts now.”
“Why she has it?” he says, pogoing the entire length of the kitchen, first forwards then backwards.
I try and think of other ways of packaging the essential elements of the message – sleep in draught, neck exposed to the cold, camping cabin chilly - but I’m struggling… “Er… she..the muscle…”
“No.  Why she burps a lot?” he adds in time with his full-body jumping-jacks.
“I don’t think she does much, not by comparison to you two at any rate.”
“But the pill?” he continues, spin to the right, stop, spin to the left, stop.
“The pill is for pain.”
“They don’t make you burp a lot?” he says swinging his head down between his parted legs to speak to me upside down, his hair brushing the floor like an upside down cuckoo from his clock.
“She doesn’t have indigestion she has a pain in the neck.”  The emphasis is purely accidental.
“Oh.”  He stops abruptly, as if I stole his key.  Clearly my tone is too sharp and windy with irritation.
“But it says,” he bleats as he peers at the jar, “Oopsie. Oh no it doesn’t,” he whispers.  “Never mind!” he yells at fifty decibels charging from the room.

But I catch him mid dash, “it doesn’t what?”
“I thought it said ‘I burp often,’” but now I see it doesn’t.”
I turn the label around, run my eye over it again, “Hmm…yes, I can see how you might mis-read Ibuprofen.”

The Nature of things

The Nature of things
As with most things around here, I have no idea where it came from, but now it’s here, it provides a whole heap of motivation as well as no end of hic-cups for inattentive parents. For some children, the ability to communicate verbally ebbs and flows, with backlogs and blockages, but sometimes we drown in an unexpected flood.
“Agh!”
“What? Are you o.k.? What’s the matter dear?”
My son fizzes and hops around the kitchen on stiff stick legs and springy toes as the words percolate up from the depths.
“No!”
“No what?”
“Don’t!”
“Don’t what?”
“Agh!”
“!”
“Don’t touch my nature!”
“Where is your nature……..what is……..your nature?”
“Agh!”
He thrusts out a helpful pointy arm to assist me but as he is also spinning in a circle I fail to nail down the point of interest.
“Er….?”
He stops dead to turn his entire body into an arrow where his nose directs attention to the counter top and an overturned glass that covers a pebble.
“Ah…….it’s a pebble……..how…….nice.”
“No! It is being my nature. She is being my friend.”
“You have a pebble for a friend……..how lovely.”
“NO!”
He gingerly lifts away the glass and peers closely at the pet rock, nudges it gently with his forefinger, “Agh! She is goned!”
“Who is goned…..gone?”
“My friend is lost!”
“Ah…..some kind of insect perhaps?”
“Yes. My rolly polly friend.”
“Ah……she rolled away I suspect.”
“Do not be laugh at my nature friend.”
“Sorry…….I…..”
“You are bad to laugh at nature.”
“Yes….sorry……lets look under the rock shall we?”
The rolly polly is revealed in all it’s glorious magnificence for my son to ooo and ahh over with tender gentle words of adoration. He stops, silent and grasps my wrist between his teeth, the same as a crocodile carries her young. We experience a rare instance of direct eye contact before he releases me.
“Itsa rule!”
“What is?”
“Itsa like the laws of physics.”
“What is like the laws of physics?”
“Be kind to mother nature’s creatures……..or she’ll bite you in the butt.”

I like to think that my own performance might have been better, had it not been 3 in the morning, but I suspect that the jet lag excuse may be running a bit thin.