Ah yes, just as I was easing onto the couch with my mocha latte and box of bon-bons to watch another inspiring episode of All My Children, the phone rings. It's noon. Could my sex crazed husband be calling to set up a rendezvous? Are you kidding me? Which blog have you been reading? It's school - the kindergartner is complaining of a headache and she has a fever of 99.0. (Which, by the way, cannot be really considered a fever, right? I mean, her eye balls aren't frying in the sockets yet, so it's not really a fever). So I grab the keys and fire up the minivan and drive leisurely to school. I see this sad little face at the door, over sized backpack hanging off her hunched shoulders. Could I have been too quick to judge? Maybe my baby really is ill. The mini sobs on the way home throw me into a mommy guilt. I got my sick little baby onto the couch with some cookies and milk and a Suite Life of Zach & Cody marathon. Instead of bringing out the box of Keeblers, I should have gotten out the Academy award for best performance by a melodramatic five year old.
Sure as fireworks on the fourth of July, said sick one was bouncing off the walls and complaining that she couldn't go out and play. Then when it was time to pick up her sister, she had to be duct taped to her booster car seat so that she wouldn't run around like a healthy child when she was supposed to be ill.
So after I kissed little darling and sent her on her way to school today, I finally got that nooner in. Just me, my bon-bons and Zach Slater on AMC. Greenlee thinks she still has embryos left. Good for her - I should let her know that they come with mini Academy Awards.