Last year just before Christmas, our little toddler, Anna, woke up in the morning crying. It was not like her, as she is always so cheerful. I then noticed she was very hot. I was watchful of her since I was aware that she wasn’t her usual self. As I wanted her to have some breakfast, I carried her downstairs and put her in her highchair and managed to spoon a little bit of food into her.
Normally, Anna goes for a few hours a week to a child-minder, while I catch up with some household jobs. That morning, however, I rang the child-minder and told her that Anna was not herself, and I wouldn’t bring her over until I was happy that she was all right. Anna seemed to be fine after her older sister had gone off to school, so I took her over to the child-minder. I was hardly back in the house for long when the phone rang and the child-minder said, “I’m very worried about Anna.” She described some alarming signs of illness and said that Anna was not responding to her.
I said I would be over immediately.
