We've had sick chickadees here in Piperland. Adam is teething and Elizabeth has a summer cold. The kind that comes with colorful tantrums. I went to collect her from her nap the other day and she was writhing on the floor wimpering, whispering, "I dyyyyyyyying. I dyyyyyyyying."
Seriously. I have no idea where this kid comes up with this stuff.
But, because I comes from a long line of melodramatic thespians. . .
OK, so maybe I'm the only melodramatic one on my side of the family . . .
But at any rate, I told her that if she was going to writhe on the floor wimpering about impending death, she should delicately toss the back of her wrist to her forehead to add a bit more "POW" to her performance. This *might* have been one of those "what-were-ya-thinking, Heath?" moments, because now this has become Elizabeth's Trademark move.
Can't steal the toy from Adam? She will delicately toss the wrist to the forehead and whisper, "I dyyyyyyyying, mommy. I neeeeeeeed that." If Adam doesn't fork over the goods, the act gets kicked up a notch. Or 40 notches, and raging screams of "BUT I WANT THAT!!!!!!!!" can be heard over on Saturn.
Today I have caught the summer cold from her. Sore throat, stuffy nose, runny nose, but no tantrums. I also have to go have my cholesterol tested today. They will also weigh me and discover that I'm about 20 pounds heavier than I should be. When they turn to give me that disapproving stare, I will try to garner an ounce of sympathy by tossing my wrist to my forehead and claim, "But I dyyyyyyying."
Think it'll work?