Where were we?
It's been so long, I can't remember what I've told you about. Let's see... hmmmm... everyone's sick... cough... doctor... antibiotics... stuffy nose... back to doctor... vomiting... hmmm... toenail ripped off? Did we cover that yet? Yes? Okay, then... doctor... doctor... there must be something else I've been up to lately. Hmmm... doctor... hand stuck in toilet.... Oh, THAT's what I wanted to catch you up on today. I almost forgot.
So, Kyra's been on antibiotics for her random fever/cough/vomit situation. Of course, she hates the antibiotics, so she takes a gulp and then swishes it around in her mouth like listerine or something. Try explaining to a 2-year-old that she should just swallow already and get it over with.
Last night she started a few other symptoms which I won't get into in a public forum so as not to provide fodder for her frenemies in ten years when they google this post. Suffice to say that the medical unit needed to do a urine test because they suspected a UTI.
So off we went to the Embassy to collect a sterile cup and fill it up.
Poor Kyra had performance anxiety, I guess, or else she was just feeling stubborn, because she couldn't make it work. I sat her on the potty in the medical unit and held the cup underneath her, cajoling, pleading and wondering what I'd done to deserve this fate of mine. Seriously. I was half-crouching, half-kneeling, on the floor of a public restroom with my hand in the toilet, waiting to be peed upon by a sick 2-year-old. Back in the labor and delivery room, NO ONE told me this fate would one day be visited upon me. When I held that tiny baby in my arms for the first time, I thought the grossest stuff was over with. But no.
I promised lollipops.
I promised cocoa.
I promised lollipops and cocoa, together.
Right again. Nothing.
Eventually, I gave up. I put the (still sterile?) cup in my purse (yes, ewww), washed my hands about a thousand times and took her to the Embassy cafeteria. I ordered a salmon salad and a big 'ole Sprite. She downed the Sprite before turning her attention to my salad. She ate that, too.
Then her daddy showed up. She squealed with delight and hugged him close with her greasy salmon hands while I told him of my hand-in-potty adventures.
"Would you pee for Daddy?" he asked.
So they went into the men's room together and, mere minutes later, they emerged, victorious, cup held aloft.
Kyra immediately demanded her lollipop.
So, that was my morning. How was yours?