I have become nurse again because Red is sick. Again. I know, I know, he just was sick but any of you with children might know this interesting bit of news:
Children are walking germ buckets.
Anyhow, he wasn’t bad sick or anything. He had a low fever and a bit of a cough and I think also just plain old tired out-edness. I wasn’t too concerned.
Except for one small problem (cue scary sharknado music here):
HE WAS GONNA MISS HIS FIRST DAY OF PRESCHOOL.
I KNOW. IT’S SO AWFUL I EVEN TEXTED HIS TEACHER IN ALL CAPS. I FELT ALL CAPSY ALL AFTERNOON. HE WAS GONNA LOSE HIS EVERLOVING TODDLER STILL DEVELOPING MIND. WE’VE ONLY BEEN TALKING ABOUT THIS FOR 12 MONTHS.
And once he was actually informed about this whole thing, he started wailing with operatic intensity. There was vibrato, folks. We’re talking bel canto. I applauded when he was done, whilst wiping snot and trying to cuddle without getting that snot all over me.
Ok, I am going to interrupt here. I am a mom, right, and moms should be able to cuddle and not worry about snot. I know this. But, in the interest of full disclosure (somewhere the lawyer is again rolling his eyes) I am going to admit something to you that I have never admitted to anyone: I don’t do snot. I can do *tics off on fingers*: pee, poop, pee mixed with poop, barf, the fakeout barf (barf that doesn’t happen when you are sure it will) and even exploding barf. Also some straight up saliva but that’s a whole other post. I don’t do snot.)
Once the wailing turned down to a small two-part aria in the key of despair, I figured I would pull out a few of my sick-day tricks to lessen the sting.
“Red, hows about some popsicles?
“Wow. Even the ones that aren’t homemade that you love? The ones with Red #5 that make you nutty?”
“NO. I quit Red#5. Dat stuff is awful. Whaddya trying to do, get me sick?”
“Oh. Ok. I’ll call my therapist later. Wanna color with me? We can color some rockets! Or, wait, Kitties and Rockets?”
“I am over rockets.” sniff “Not kitties though.”
“You wanna just draw kitties with me?”
“No. I’m going to make this as hard as possible.”
“Ok… Hows about we have our own school?”
“Wait, WHAT? We can do that? Like, have school HERE?”
“Well… yes. It’s actually a real thing. People do it all the time. Their children are usually scary smart and well adjusted. But as for us, we’re gonna do it just this day. Not every day.”
“This is ALLOWED? I canna do school HERE. In our HOUSE?”
“Stop speaking in caps. It’s too dramatic. Yes. It’s called… *whisper* homeschooling.”
“SHHHHHHH! Just today! Only TODAY? OK? Don’t get any ideas.”
So, we did school. Fitting, I guess, since the poor kid was dying to get at some markers (kitty pictures did occur) and the alphabet on a chalkboard, and something with pipe cleaners that ended up looking like a lower intestine (I was going for art class – Abstract impressionism).
To cap the day off, we watched this classic:
At this point, Netflix was, again, ready to save the day because Red was fading fast, but he simply had no idea how to turn himself off and just… rest. The kid does not do rest. I don’t do snot. He doesn’t go naps. Really, this is horribly unfair. If we could just somehow trade…
Anyhow, Emily’s First 100 Days of School, inspired by the author Rosemary Wells, was adorable. Red, my little bunny, curled up next to me and was entranced. I was too.
Here’s hoping the next time Red is sick it isn’t during his beloved VBS, or the first day of preschool, or some other huge thing, like Royals opening day (which is during school, I know… but someday I have a feeling his dad is gonna make this a “thing.”) I hope, actually, the sweet kid is never sick again, of course. But I’ll take a good long cuddle with him on the couch, watching my beloved throwback television anyway.
Disclosure: I’m a member of the Netflix #StreamTeam. Netflix comp the service we were previously paying for in exchange for my monthly posts and ramblings about movies and family viewing. I love this. I watch movies and then chatter about them.