Lucy Talks (A Lot)

Last night Lucy came into our bedroom about 3:30 a.m.  She was crying.  She had a fever.  I took her temperature and asked her if she had any other symptoms.  She said no.  I gave her some ibuprofen and we snuggled up on the sofa.  We made our way to the guest bed because there was a big storm and the thunder combined with her fever made her needy. 

As she was falling asleep I was watching her and I asked if she could please take her thumb out of her mouth.  She did.  Then she started telling me about how you wouldn't want to be in a volcano and that we don't get very many earthquakes here but there is a state that gets a lot of earthquakes and that she doesn't like tornadoes and that she knows what to do when there is a tornado at school and that she wants to go to Grandma's house tomorrow and she hopes she isn't still sick and that she knows how to wash a dog; first you get the dog wet and then you get the shampoo and then you put the shampoo on the dog and scrub and then you rinse the dog and that our dog sure could use a bath and that doesn't know why she has a fever and that she has had a lot of firsts lately.  She told me that she had the first time sleeping with me a few weeks ago when she got home from the hospital and that tonight was the first night she had slept in the guest bedroom but the second time she had slept with me and that she liked sleeping with me because the thunder was too loud and that kids are sometimes afraid of loud noises like thunder and the trash truck at school that empties out the dumpster and that it sure is loud and that she just covered her ears when they were walking outside and the truck was dumping the dumpster and that the librarian, Mrs. Smith, read her a story about a trash man but that was after Mrs. Eakes had read it, so she knew all about it already and that the book wasn't loud but the truck sure was.  She also told me that her sister said she could take her head off and she didn't like that and that she wanted to craft in the morning if she felt better and that flamingos stand on one leg when they sleep but that she couldn't do that when she was asleep and that the roof of her mouth sure was dry.

I suggested that she put her thumb back in her mouth.  She did.

For the next hour she thrashed about beside me in bed.  She tossed, turned, kicked, flipped, twisted, flailed, pushed, pulled, flung, whipped, jerked, curled, straightened, sighed, kneed, flexed, stretched, and struggled.

I think it was the words trying to get out.