pony t-shirt

 I kept glancing sideways at her and scrunching up eyebrows.  Pepper lay on the couch in a ball with her unicorn under one arm.
"His name is Vowl-entine Fairy,"  she says.
The two of them have been watching t.v. all morning.

I am doing the doctor dance.
Do I take her?  Do we ride it out?
If insurance were not so useless, and it actually paid for things like a sick visit, I would just go.  But it's going to cost me.  At least $50.  Probably more like $100.  If I can ascertain for myself what is going on, then I'd rather keep my money.  I don't need someone to tell me,
"Yep, Pepper is sick. Give her tylenol and let her rest."

Is is strep?  Her face is pale.  Purplish grey shadows line the inside of her eye sockets.  She certainly has a fever, I can see it and feel it, but I don't know how high it is because our thermometer is about as helpful as our health insurance policy.
Once again, I am left with my own intuition.

The night before she couldn't stay asleep for more than 1/2 an hour.
"Mom, my neck is biting me.  I need you to snuggle with me.  Just for a minute, okay?......where is my unicorn?"
I scoop her in tighter and whisper the words to Somewhere Over the Rainbow.  I have heard her in bed, singing this song to herself.   Pepper has always been my most delicate child.


Sophie burns with life.  Nothing keeps her down for long.  Her appetite matches my rugby-playing brother.  When I pick her up, I am stunted by the density of her muscles.  She is so small it seems I could whisk her from the ground, but she is not easily swept up.  Her stature is solid.  Her feet firm in their spot.  She does not doubt her own worth.
I don't tell her.  She tells me.

Beckam's girth speaks for itself.  He may have been born at the same tiny 6 1/2 pound size as his sisters, but he has made up for it fast.  He is a walking cinder block.  He never stays sick for very long.  As a newborn in the winter, he weathered every cold with ease.  The top left corner of his forehead is where the bruise goes.  I have heard his head hit the
ground like a cannon.  He stands up looks around, and walks away.  If other adults are in the room, they all jump up when the cannon goes off.  They are certain we have a casualty.  The only one still sitting is me.   Because I know he is fine.

But Pepper, she is like Beth from Little Women.  She is sweet and whispy and seems to have one foot in another world.
I take one last look in her eyes.  I feel her neck.
I decide to take her.
"Where are we going, Mom?"
"We are going to get you medicine so you can get all better."
"Okay,"  she says and puts her hot head on my shoulder.
She is limp from the fever.

We read  books and wait for the doctor.  She spends time looking at every page.  She asks questions.  "What is that on the tiger's teeth, Mom?"
"That's slobber."
She laughs outloud,
"Slobber?  That crazy tiger!  He's slobbering on the book!"
"Do you see that Dodo bird, just like Alice in Wonderland, Mom?"
We are at the office for an hour and a half.  Each time the doctor comes in for another test she whimpers but tries not to cry.  I know she is being brave.  I tell her so.
When he's done, we go to another book and she is swept up again.
Maybe this is the world for her other foot.  I understand.  I am the same way.  I can go where words take me.  Words create a three dimensional world just as luscious as this one.  They resonate in my chest, in my gut, and behind my forehead.
I understand myself through these children.  They reflect parts of myself back to me, and I am allowed to marvel at us both.  As I hold and comfort Pepper, I am soothing a younger Sarah.

It is strep.
We get the pink medicine.
I explain it all to her and she wants to know.
I explain the bugs in her neck.
Why we need the doctor to stick that thing in her nose and throat to test the bugs.
Why she needs to be brave and let the doctor listen to her heart and look in her ears.
How only the doctor can give us the paper to get the medicine.
How the only way to get medicine is to take the piece of paper to the store.
She believes everything I tell her.  This is her intelligence, and her vulnerability.  She believes me.

At the store, I get her a t-shirt with a pony on it for being so brave.  Her smile is bright and she keeps sticking out her tiny chest to see the ponies on our way to the car.