My granny is a grand, spunky lady who is close to 90 years old. She is independent, classy, has a fantastic sense of humour, and is very quick witted. She spent some of Easter Monday with us and gamely spent some time painting with Hannah, so I had to get a picture of it.
The next day, Seffie got sick. I consider myself very blessed to have extremely healthy kids. It's been a long time since either of them have been sick. He had a sore throat, runny nose and felt like he was going to "frow up". He got a little worse on Wednesday and eventually did frow up a little, but is now on the mend.
My Hannah played Florence Nightingale to him. In the morning she made his bed (without anyone asking her to), waited on him hand and foot, got his couch-bed ready, got him more Gatorade (our upset-tummy-drink-of-choice) and continually told me that she would "take care of him". She is in her element when she can help like this and I really appreciated her sweet attitude.
Unfortunately, Florrie has now come down with her brother's illness and is in bed, moaning and groaning that her throat is sore and her nose is stuffed.
So, I'm off to nurse my girl. I'm quite certain that tomorrow her little brother won't be resuming the role of Florrie for his big sister. He'll be too busy celebrating his good health and running around like mad, driving everybody crazy.