So the saga continues. You remember . . . the Christmas break that may never end.
My daughter went to back school today. A good thing, I guess. Except I think all her pouting last night burned any illness left right out of her. You see, because the last two days before Christmas break were snow days ~ remember?! ~ my daughter's first grade class missed their class Christmas party. Turns out, they had it yesterday. (Why not? Not like they have anything important to do . . . like teaching them to read, write, add . . .) I expected acid rain to fall inside our own van yesterday afternoon when she saw most of her classmates all lined up holding their freshly frosted, heavily candied gingerbread houses at carpool. I could feel my daughter -- all of 6 years old -- seething all the way in the back seat.
So guess who's home today? Yep, the pale-yet-flush-faced 9 year old. (Is that snickering I hear? I don't find this funny! Okay, maybe a little . . .) My poor little guy had a headache to beat the band last night -- always a sure sign of impending doom and illness for him. He managed to sleep most the night . . . that's better than I can say for myself. I couldn't stop myself from checking on him several times after finding him basically sleeping on his head at 1am. (No, really. Can anyone other than those 9 and younger sleep on their stomachs with their knees pulled up under their chests? With his arms at his sides, somehow, his whole body was pitched toward the top of his head! Talk about a headache!)
He's feeling better this morning, all sacked out on the couch watching Ripley's Believe It Or Not. (I gave up after the guy with 600 rings pierced through his face and the other guy with the 25 lb. foot.) Amazingly, my son keeps asking for more and more to eat and drink -- despite his chosen television program. A good sign.
Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, possibly . . . everyone will be where they belong tomorrow.