Yesterday morning Jack came downstairs and planted himself in front of my rocking chair, where I was reading the newspaper online. He had on the sort of mopey, sad-sack expression only a twelve-year-old boy can muster. "I feel nauseous," he told me. "Am I hot?"
I sighed. I'd been back in town for less than twenty-four hours, and I was still weary from my travels. "Let me feel your forehead," I told him, and he slumped down in front of me. He was definitely warm, verging on hot. But feverish? Hmmm ... I'm not sure I'd call him feverish.
Normally when one of my children claim to be ill, I tower over him like a marine sergeant, spittle flying from my mouth as I yell, "UNLESS YOU HAVE A 104 FEVER AND AN ADVANCED CASE OF LEPROSY, YOU WILL GO TO SCHOOL!"
But that's not where I was yesterday. I waved a limp hand at him and said, "Fine, go back to bed, we'll see how you feel in an hour."
In an hour, he actually felt hotter, and he looked sort of pasty, so I felt like I'd erred on the side of good judgment. It would be nice in situations like this to have a thermometer that works, but I have bad thermometer zen. I can't explain it.
He came downstairs for a bowl of cereal around 3 p.m., and the Corn Chex seemed to revive him some. "Did you get all the ingredients for the pie?" he asked me, leafing through the book he'd given me the day before for Mother's Day, Southern Pies. Jack is our family pie maker, and he'd already decided the first recipe he was going to try was Black Bottom pie.
"You can't bake pies when you're sick," I reminded him, and he nodded. And then, I swear, the color began to come back to his cheeks.
"I'm starting to feel better," he announced. "I'll make the pie tomorrow."
And, dear reader, he did, the minute he got home from school. It's chilling in the fridge right now, and it is gorgeous. I helped him some, but it really is Jack's pie. The Pie that Brought My Child Back to Health. How could it be anything other than delicious? ***
I'm working on my attic video. I made one today, but it was five minutes long, and it would probably take you an hour to download. I'll try again tomorrow. Be prepared to be shocked, I tell you, shocked!
I'm a writer and a stay-at-home mom who keeps meaning to mop the floors because I think it would make me happy if I did. I love books and music and writing, spend entirely too much time in the dentist's chair (I bet I have more crowns than you do), and used to think I was sort of bohemian, but now I wonder. No tattoos. Minivan. That story.