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Monday, February 04, 2008

Sick days are fun!

I'm lucky, because my kids rarely get sick and, when they do, they don't get very sick. They've mastered the art of getting just sick enough to stay home, but not so sick that they can't hang out and have a good time. Everybody needs a slacker day once in a while, right? I can't be the only mother who's ever taken a "sick" child out to lunch and the mall, talking loudly about fictitious homeschool projects, so no one will know the child is just playing hooky. Y'all have done that, right?

Last night, we went and watched the Super Bowl at my parents' house, because they have a television and yummy snacks, two essential things for a Super Bowl party that we lack. We also went there because we like them. That, and they had beer and wine, two things you can't get on Sunday 'round these parts. I couldn't have cared less who won (wanna' make something of it? I don't!), but I do enjoy a close ballgame. My husband and pleading children persuaded me to stay until the end, even though it was long past the kids' bedtime. There were all sorts of promises made about stellar morning behavior, blah, blah, blah. It didn't take much convincing, because I was lying on the floor, full of chips, dip, fried chicken and Champagne.

Apparently, all the excitement was more than O. could take, because he woke up in the middle of the night and threw up. He must have been concerned that we would send him to school, because he made sure to throw up again right before it was time to get dressed and have breakfast. Don't tell him, but I was going to let him stay home anyway; the second upchuck was overkill. Since my kids rarely miss school, it doesn't take much for me to let them stay home. Unlike my husband's parents.

When he was about ten years old, he woke up one morning feeling out of sorts. Like any child, he told his parents. Like any parents, desperate for a break, they convinced him that he was just fine and got him ready for school. All was well until, on his way out the door, poor A. coughed once and vomited up a four foot long worm. Which his father, master of infectious diseases, proudly put into a jar to show his colleagues at the hospital. They did let him stay home from school, but he had to put on a performance worthy of an Alien movie. But that was the seventies.

I didn't require that much drama, so O. is in the kitchen, happily watching reruns of The A-Team, at my suggestion. Did you know you can download The A-Team from Netflix and watch it immediately? Well, you can, and it's making one nine year old very happy.

Namasté, y'all!

1 comment:

Mandi said...

No wonder your husband went into law, ewwww.