Sick kid syndrome

As I write this, my eldest daughter is curled up on the couch, her blond head nestled lovingly against her pillow pet. She's watching the antics of an old Yogi Bear cartoon, her stuffed lamb tucked underneath one arm. She's sick. A fever. A cough. And a crusty, runny nose. Like every other parent, I drop whatever I'm doing and nurse my child. Sure, I grouse along with the other moms when I'm out and about. Everyone knows that a sick six-year-old can be miserable and demanding. But secretly I kind of like it. When they're feeling at their worst, that's when they need me the most. I really don't mind fetching mugs of hot tea, making homemade chicken noodle soup and playing endless games of Disney princess checkers.

My kids are growing up faster than I care to admit. They're more independent. They're thinking for themselves and asking me to do less. Just today, while building a homemade tee pee out of some long sticks and miscellaneous blankets, Emma said, "You know Mom, I can figure these things out myself." Yes, I know and the tee pee was constructed. Inside I cringe. In a way, I've done this to myself. I've always wanted to raise strong, independent girls and it appears that that they're on that path. Hurray! I just don't want them skipping down that path too quickly.