Tummy issues, Part 2

For the past two nights Rachel has complained that her tummy -- inside, not outside -- feels "hot." Tonight at dinner, after a cheerful start, she suddenly got melancholy, complaining about her tummy, her sore legs, having a headache, etc. "It feels like I have all these voices talking to me," she said, and if I didn't know better I'd assume the worst. I think it's just the stress we're both feeling, and unfortunately there's not a damn thing I can do about it right now.

So, I took her into my lap at the dinner table and started telling her stories about the summer vacations Mom and Dad took us on in Cape Cod. I told Rachel about the swan boats in Boston, the Sheraton with the retractable roof (only now do I understand the importance of the indoor pool on vacations where kids are around), the cottages we used to rent, Grandpa's excellent lobster and steamed clams, digging for clams in the sand, doing arts and crafts in that building near the tennis courts while Grandma and Grandpa played tennis, and Grandpa building a fire in the fireplace while Grandma read Greek myths aloud by the fire. ("What myths?" Rachel said, and I told her a two-sentence of Jason and the Golden Fleece -- "he was a big hero with a boat called the Argonaut and he killed a lot of monsters on the journey. Then he met a beautiful woman named Medea and married her." "And what happened?" "Well, he met another woman after Medea and left her." "What happened then?" "It's so awful I don't want to tell you." "Tell me!" "Well, she killed their children." "How?" "She poisoned them." "Why did she do that?" "Because she was very angry at Jason.").

Mom and Dad, I know that those vacations were a lot of work for both of you (well, mostly for Mom), but I tell you -- they left me with fantastic memories that I'm so happy to be able to share with Rachel. I told her we'd take her to Cape Cod someday, and I intend to make good on that promise.

***

"Mommy, you're stupendous!" Rachel said this morning as I was rushing to get us out the door and make a 10 a.m. meeting in Salem. "But that doesn't mean you should be late for your meeting. Now hurry up and get dressed!"

Later, when I tried to hug her goodbye at preschool, she said, "Go! Go to your meeting!"

I guess that means she won't put up with any crying when I say goodbye to her at college in...gasp....only 14 years!!!