Maria has mono, so don't let her kiss you. Apparently, plenty of kids get the Epstein-Barr virus with no symptoms, but it knocked Maria down hard. For a good three days she was basically worthless, with a fever, a pus-filled throat, swollen lymph nodes and puffy eyes. All she did was lie pathetically in our arms. After the second trip to an urgent care, the pediatrician there sent us to the ER, where they gave her IV fluids and totally turned everything around.
She was a sad, sad little girl for a for awhile, though.
The day after the ER trip, she actually started to play a little.
Today she was well enough to go swimming.
Meanwhile, Jeff's grandfather, Poco, was in the hospital when we arrived a few weeks ago, and while Maria was convalescing, he was doing much worse. He passed away on Saturday. At ninety five, his memory had only started to slip recently. He also adored Maria. I hope he wouldn't have been offended by her behavior at his funeral this morning, during which she wailed repeatedly for her Daddy, to the point that I had to take her down into the church basement.
Life lesson learned today: take a four year old and a two year old to a funeral and they are guaranteed to act their age. Kurt, for instance, found a tractor at the cemetery and settled right in.
Incidentally, the church where Poco's funeral was held was the church in which he was married. (It's also the church where Jeff and I were married.) After the church service, he was buried in the adjacent cemetery, next to his wife, and near his parents and his siblings. Our last name was on many, many stones in that place. My sister in law Kim sometimes refers to this part of Missouri as our husbands' ancestral homeland, and she's really not kidding. My family, by comparison, has led a gypsy-like existence. There's something to be said for people who don't feel constrained by their pasts. But I'm glad I got to marry into this neat family that has such tangible, traceable roots.
That said, off we go to Virginia tomorrow!