Tending the sick

Paul was sick today, poor guy. Sylvia and I stayed out most of the day to let him rest. When we got back this evening, I tried giving Sylvia some chicken soup for supper, but after the first couple of bites she wrestled the spoon out of my hands and took off with it (spilling the soup, of course; and yes, I was holding her instead of making her sit in the high chair, so ... all my fault). As I was standing there feeling frustrated, I realized Sylvia was holding the spoon up high and heading straight toward Paul, who was sprawled under some blankets on the couch. 

She said some gibberish and gave him the spoon. After he dutifully licked the remaining drops of soup off of it, she gave me the spoon back with some very firm gibberish instructions. 

I pulled a noodle out of the soup with my fingers to see if she would eat it. Instead, she grabbed it and trotted back to Paul to give it to him. I gave her another one. Same thing (except that she dropped the second one on the floor). 

Then she agitated for her sippy cup. Together we filled it with water at the sink, and when I put her down, she hurried back over to Paul to give it to him. 

Lest you think we are raising a saint, after she handed her sippy cup to Paul, she grabbed HIS glass of water on the table next to him, which I'd been trying to keep her away from since the moment she saw it. She was clearly trying to trade ;) 

I told her it was time for bed and she should say good night to daddy. She kissed him on the elbow and we went upstairs for a bath and stories. 

Such a tender little heart.