Still sick

Stayed home from work today, although I ended up working anyway. It was nice, however, to be able to sleep in and not start work until 1. I had to get copy in for the magazine, so I ended up working until around 9:30, with a break for dinner. And, of course, for being with Rachel -- poor kid, she hasn't seen her Mommy much these past few days.

As soon as she got home from school, she raced downstairs calling "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" and then she said, "Hey Mommy guess what? For lunch today they had peanut butter and I tried some and it was SO GOOD!" I took her into my lap and said, "Really?! I'm so proud of you for trying peanut butter! Maybe you can eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch!" She ducked her head into my chest but I could tell that she was pleased.

At dinner Drew and I were talking about something and I said, "I agree."
'What's 'agree' mean?" Rachel asked.
"'Agree' means that you think somebody's right,' I answered. "So if you say, 'I agree,' that means you think the person who said something is right."

A few minutes later Rachel said, "Hey guys, take a piece of challah and dip it into the soup." (We were eating the chicken soup with matzo balls that my mensch husband made because I was too sick to do it). "It's really good," Rachel said.

Drew and I both did so, and said, "You're right, sweetie." I added, "Rachel is such an adventurous eater!"
"I agree!" she answered, with a mischievous grin.

Also at dinner, Rachel started saying silly nonsense words interspersed with real words like "eyebrow" and "nose" and "eyes." So, Drew and I resumed a parlor game we used to play years ago--reciting the poem "Jabberwocky," with each of us alternating words. (I used to do this in high school with David Hochron and Kim Pettit). Drew scolded me for forgetting most of the poem -- "Lednicer, you are WAY out of practice," he said -- and Rachel was intrigued for a while. Then, as we were finishing up, she said, "Oh, STOP IT!" in such a gronwnup tone of voice that we cracked up. Still managed to finish the poem, though.