One of the "joys" of your child starting school, is the myriad colds they bring home. I don't think that's what we mean when we say kids should learn to share, but it's one of the few things four-year-olds have no problem sharing.
Poor kid. Last night, late last night, when I had already turned off the TV, Tim comes into the bedroom carrying a madly coughing Clinton. I think he'd just worked himself into a frenzy, because he could certainly breathe, but it was still a bit nerve-wracking to hear.
Into the bath he went, with a few drops of Eucalyptus oil. Out of the bath he came, and got some Zarbee's cough syrup. And then I spent the next ten minutes reading to him, which is something I love to do (and I admit that the one nice thing about him being sick, is that he's unlikely to stop a story so he can run around and do something else). He was probably asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but I liked the story we were reading, so I kept on anyway.
Guess what my alarm clock was this morning? Yep, more hacking cough. I knew by the time I'd started the coffeemaker, that we'd be home from school today.
It's too bad, really. The sun is shining, the temperature has been rising, it's a perfect day to go to the park - but I'm not going to be that mom, the one who brings her sick child to the playground and infects all the other kids.
Nor am I going to be the mom who drags a sick child into Target to buy cat food, which we also need. (At least we live in a big city in the 21st century, I was able to order the cat food and some ginger ale from Amazon and have it delivered around lunch time.)(I might have ordered myself some Ben & Jerry's, too.)
On the upside, we're entering a long weekend, so my little dragon child should be fully recovered by the next school day.