Sybil has a Headache

Julia, Timmy and Rosa

Dear God, it’s me Rosa, your favourite little Blau. I just want to thank you for the summertime and making the weather cooler today. God, I need a few very important things from you. Please make Timmy an astronaut and Julia a chef. Also please help my Mummy feel better, because she’s not nice when she feels ill. She picks on my handsome Daddy. Anyway, you are a good boy, and I love you. Night, night. Amen.

Sybil woke up with a headache.

“Can I get you anything my dear?” asked George who felt he was pushed out of bed because he was drinking his coffee too noisily.

“No, nothing,” Sybil groaned, “you gave me this headache.”

“I did?” asked George stunned by what his wife said, “how did I do that?”

Sybil groaned a little louder, “how else would I have got this headache? I didn’t have it last night did !?”

George couldn’t remember what he had for dinner the night before, let alone whether Sybil had a headache or not, but he hadn’t learnt his lesson after all the years of marriage. “No Sybil, you’re mistaken. You said your head was hurting and that’s why you had to sit outside on the balcony and breathe in some fresh air.”

Sybil did not want to hear that. When she said she didn’t have a headache last night that was the end of the matter, it was irrefutable. “George,” groaned Sybil watching her husband as he picked himself off the bedroom floor where he had landed, when Sybil booted him in the ribs. Thank goodness he had put the coffee down on the bedside table before she had done that. “Can you make sure the children, especially Rosa, get to school on time.”

George was about to say something but then wisely thought twice about it. He always made sure the children got off to school on time after making them a decent breakfast, and that day was not to be any different.

Just as he did on every other day, George knocked on Rosa’s bedroom door before walking in only to find her still lying in bed supposedly fast asleep. George carefully put his wings under his youngest daughter and gently lifted her and sat her on the edge of the bed. Rosa kept her eyes closed.

“Would you like oatmeal for breakfast?” he asked. That did the trick. That always did the trick. Rosa immediately sprung to life and headed to the bathroom.

“Yes please!” she shouted as her father closed the door behind him and then as any good husband would do, opened the door to the master bedroom and poked his head in. Sybil was still under the covers.

“How do you feel, darling?” he asked, “can I get you something for breakfast?” Sybil opened one eye and then closed it.

“I have a headache, George. I told you that before. Why would I want something for breakfast?”

“How about something for your headache?” he was a glutton for punishment.

“Such as what?”

“Aspirin?” he asked meekly wishing he hadn’t looked in on his wife.

“Not good for you. Haven’t you read the latest medical research? George, sometimes I wonder about you?”

“Tylenol?” he then asked, but before Sybil answered, he added, “just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, darling,” and closed the door behind him. He heard Sybil groan through the door.

“Is my oatmeal ready, Daddy?” asked Rosa as soon as he walked into the kitchen.

“Wait a minute young lady. Have you done all you need to do in the bathroom?” Rosa was silent. “Rosa?” George asked.

“No not yet Daddy, I’ll be right back,” and with that she jumped off her chair and ran into the hall bathroom. By the time she returned, Timmy and Julia were already sitting at the table eagerly awaiting their eggs and bagels. Rosa looked deflated. “Daddy, I told you I want oatmeal.”

“Don’t worry young lady. I’ll have that to you in a minute. I have to feed Timmy and Julia because they got here first.”

“No Daddy,” reminded Rosa, “I got here first. You sent me away. So, I should get my oatmeal before they get their eggs.” Wisely, George who had been through this routine several times ignored his youngest child and continued frying the eggs, while waiting for the bagels to pop up in the toaster. “How’s Mummy?” asked Rosa holding a spoon in her right wing while contemplating banging the table with it. She had seen it in a movie, but wisely refrained.

“She has a headache this morning Rosa, so guys please let your mother sleep.”

“Mummy had a headache yesterday after dinner,” reminded Julia.

George felt vindicated but it wasn’t a victory of any length. “No, I didn’t!” Sybil had managed to crawl out of bed and come into the kitchen where she plonked herself at the table.

“I’m glad you feel better,” said George sliding two fried eggs onto Julia and Timmy’s plates.

“I hope you’re going to get Rosa her oatmeal,” reminded Sybil to George’s annoyance.

“Yes, I am darling. I have everything in hand.”

“Oh, then you don’t need me right now.”

George was stuck. “I always need you darling. But why don’t you go back to bed and I will bring you some hot tea soon.”

Sybil got up from the table, “with honey,” she said walking into the hallway, “you always forget the honey.”

Rosa smiled at her father. “I don’t know how you do it, Daddy.”

“Do what Rosa?” asked George absentmindedly as he stirred Rosa’s oatmeal and put it into the microwave.

“Look after mummy and us.”

“It’s my life’s calling,” he replied and Julia let out a single solitary laugh. George chose to ignore her. “All right children it’s time to fly off to school.”

“Can I say goodbye to Mummy and hope she feels better?” asked Rosa.

Yes, she could, and without knocking on the bedroom door she walked in. Sybil of course thought it was George, “did you put honey in the tea, George?” asked Sybil her eyes now covered with a scarf.

“No Mummy. It’s Rosa. I just wanted to say I hope you feel better and I know Daddy will look after you better than anyone else.” Sybil could rebut her, but Rosa continued, “because when I’m ill there’s no one I want other than my Daddy to take care of me.” No, Sybil did not have a reply and so Rosa walked over to the bed and gave her mother a peck on the cheek. “I love you Mummy!” and with that she flew off to school.

Sybil waited a couple of minutes to make sure all the children had left before she called out to George. “Where’s my tea, George?”

At that moment George walked into the bedroom, “and it has honey in it darling,” he replied putting the mug down on her bedside table.

“I just realised why I have headache,” Sybil sat up in bed and lifted the mug.

“Why’s that?” asked George almost afraid to.

“Just the thought of having my father here for a few weeks, while my parents make their way down to Clearwater and both you and him catering to Rosa is enough to give anyone a headache! So there George. I was right. You gave me the headache.”

“How’s the tea?” replied George.

“You forgot to stir it,” Sybil groaned, “must I always do everything?”