It’s your last week of first grade. Thursday is a half day.
So, naturally, you fall ill on Monday morning with a fever (strep negative, thanks Dr. Lock, and thanks to Dad for teaching me to go to the doctor when your kid is sick…)
You threw up in your bed last night. No, this post isn’t to document your illness, but to highlight how miserable you were.
This morning, your fever was even higher, which is awful. You were able to squeak out how your throat felt like someone cut it into a million pieces and left it in your neck. That was sufficiently descriptive.
So, we decided you’d blow a whistle if you needed me while I worked from home today. Since we didn’t have a whistle, but your daddy is a musician, we improvised.
You decided to have pre-written notes, like:
Can I Watch TV?
Can I Play A Video Game?
With your marker, you wrote one more thing to communicate without your voice working.
This almost makes up for finding out you have been making out with a boy in your class behind the playground structures at recess.
So, sorry in advance Kiddo, but I OBVIOUSLY had to tell Auntie Lindz, who, even after explaining it’s a Pokemon “Lickytongue” thing, …
Was, totally all about #HelpingNotHelping…
I love you, too, kiddo.
Sorry to Future You when you see this and realize I put this on the Internet. And, sorry to your friend, who will absolutely be sick during the first week of summer vacation.