Leave It To Beavers

With nasty viruses beginning to spread around from person to person, I've been bracing myself for one of the kids to catch something at school and then graciously share it with the rest of us. I've been on guard. I have my Lysol spray, and I have a container of Clorox disinfectant wipes. I have the Ibuprofen and I've stocked up on some Airborne even.

But how does one protect themselves against the beavers? Zoe woke up yesterday morning and said her legs ached. They hurt. The beavers were biting them.

Now, last time I checked it wasn't exactly nice to giggle at your five year old when she's staring at you with her big blue eyes and pouty lips and can't figure out why she doesn't feel up to par and tells you the beavers are biting her. But I couldn't help it. It was the only way she could explain what her legs felt like. Someday I'll be able to explain to her that it's not exactly the best thing to call anything in or around you legs a beaver, but for now I have to play along.

I know what it feels like to come down with a fever and how that terrible aching starts in your legs and makes your entire body hurt. It seemed though that the beavers only wanted to take up residence in her legs yesterday. The Ibuprofen is helping her some; she hasn't gotten a fever and is playing, but her poor body is busy fighting the beavers every waking second.

As of last night, the beavers had moved out of her right leg and into her left leg with the rest of them. This morning they were kind enough to spread out a bit and move into her arms. You wouldn't know it the way she's playing and trying to ignore the fact that she's a little sick the way she's belting out Miley Cyrus right now.

In the meantime, any and all prayers would be appreciated. Apparently rubbing the beavers makes them stop biting but you can imagine the response I get from other adults when I say I'm busy rubbing the beavers.


Onto another funny note. Just wanted to share a little excerpt from a phone conversation between my mom and Rylee last night. Apparently when Zoe was finished talking to her, she just handed the phone to Rylee without letting Mom know and Rylee just starting talking....

Grandma: Wait a minute. Who am I talking to?
Rylee: You're talking to ME.
Grandma: **giggles** Well, who is ME?
Rylee: Well, you are Grandma.
Grandma: **giggles again** All right then. Who are you?
Rylee: This is Rylee.

Only a three year old can turn a telephone conversation into another Who's On First rendition.