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Chrissie is suffering from a heavy cold.
Having a cold was bad but for little Chris being left behind at Bobby's was worse. The four year old hated being separated from her brothers and it made her miserable. It wasn't that she didn't like Bobby's company, she loved Bobby and she would play in the junkyard out back and would paw through his mountainous collect of books, even though her reading skills weren't advanced enough to understand the context of them. She just liked the scary pictures of weird people and monsters. Bobby even set up a room for her, it overlooked the junkyard and she could see the brook- and the oak tree with the rope swing the boys had made once upon a time-but she was often warned away from the brook by Dean as he feared she would have an accident. The room was small but cosy and it was better than any motel room she had stayed in so far. The papered walls were littered with the little girl's drawings, many of them were of the blue eyed angel and the Impala. Bobby had even moved an old TV set into the room including a video recorder, he also picked up a few videos for the child he thought of as a daughter. Her favourites were The Land Before Time and Jungle Book because of the singing and dancing monkeys. She would normally watch it with Sam and the pair would dance and sing along before Dean ruined the moment. Sam would call him Baloo and Dean would end up calling Sam, Bageera (the bossy panther) , leaving Chrissie to be Mowgli. That wasn't the case today. She was too depressed and ill to watch Jungle Book. It wasn't the same with the boys.
Chrissie sat on the middle of the large bed with her Dad's leather jacket draped over her small shoulders. Her hair messy and flicked upwards and outwards, her round nose was like a clown's-bright red-and she kept sniffing to try to unblock her congested sinuses. Small dark circles rested under her eyes as her cold kept her awake half the night to which she refused to disturb Bobby from his sleep. The skin under her nose was getting scabby due to over using handkerchiefs which irritated her. The TV set droned in her ears and her eyes focused on the lovable little dinosaurs trying to find a way to some place called "the Great Valley." The infant lay down, wrapping the jacket around her tighter, it smelt of Dad but she couldn't put her finger on what smell it was. It was unknown to her. Her eyes drifted towards the door, she could hear Bobby climbing the stairs and a clatter of a tray. Lunchtime. She little girl let out a small harsh cough before nuzzling back into the folds of leather again. Dad and the boys will be back tomorrow she told herself as Bobby opened the bedroom door. He was holding a tray, on it was a bowl of tomato soup and a hot blackcurrant drink, with a spoonful of honey to ease her throat ache.
The older man smiled at the sick child "Ya hungry little un?"
Chrissie nodded. She hated being ill, it sucked, that much she knew. Even at four.