Ula had a little bug last week. It was pretty minor, just enough to make her lay low for a day, and fall asleep early. In truth, Bob and I take a little guilty pleasure from such moments, as we are able to actually have complete conversations and step across the living room rug without tripping on a toy or art project. We are even able to go to bed early, without having to counter her energetic compulsion to either start dancing or engaging in imaginary sword play rather than flossing her teeth and changing into pajamas.

 

But she woke me suddenly in the night by shaking my neck and head. Sleep dazed, I grumped at her to get off of me, then rolled over and went back to sleep. She began walking around the upstairs.

 

“Ula!” Bob hissed, trying not to wake me. “Get back to bed!”

She shrugged her shoulders in good natured acquiescence, then climbed onto her bed. And started to giggle. Then laugh, with full belly laughs.

 

‘Ula!” I barked. “What is wrong with you?”

She kept laughing. “It’s just that there’s a giant toad at the window!”

I picked my head up, suddenly awake. I felt her skin. “Bob! Get me a thermometer!”

The mildly sick girl was suddenly running a fever of 107. I put her in the shower. I began administering belladonna. We gave her a bit of children’s aspirin. I tried to keep calm as our whole family gathered around her. While I am comfortable allowing my kids to run a healthy fever, I’ve never seen either of them spike this high.

It soon abated. By morning, it was as though Ula had never been sick. But I kept thinking about that toad. Had he not woken her up by making her giggle, I don’t know what would have happened.

 

I think of my new agey comrades, who claim to have spiritual guides in wolves, eagles, or other commanding mystical creatures. Ula has a true guardian animal spirit in the humble toad. So to thank him, she went out and built this little toad house along our stone wall. And as the Mama, I stop and gaze at this little house, and give thanks to that creature, for helping my daughter when she needed it most, by filling her up with giggles and laughter. This little monument will now rest in our back yard for as long as we live here.