Sam has this bummer of a cold. For the past two days, I sent him to school with it. Basically, he would wake up and be desperate to go to school and because he didn’t have a fever, I’d be like, okay, if you say so. And then he’d go and I’d pick him up and he would emerge from school looking like he hadn’t slept for weeks and then burst into tears over something really petty like how he can’t properly balance a book on his head (this is not a pretend example, but an actual complete meltdown that I had to deal with without laughing.) He’d then request to take a nap, and proceed to lie in bed and sing nonsensical songs and emerge from his room with a wild amount of playful happy energy and then I’d be like, Oh, I guess he’s healed and I’d send him to school the next day.
So, after two days of this, I was like, that’s it, you’re staying home tomorrow and we’re going to kick the hell out of this sneaky nasty cold by refusing to get out of our pajamas and by sitting around on the couch all day watching TV. Because we are a family that believes in solidarity, both Henry and I are ALSO still in our pajamas and watching TV with Sam. My children are like zombies right now. Completely content to just relax into it. They’re all sprawled out in their footy pajamas and have those glazed over TV eyes that so many parents (myself included) dread. They are very content with this day of
Dude. I am going CRAZY. It is 9:45 am and I am itching to turn off the tv, take a shower, put on pajamas and clean out the garage or something. I think I’m allergic to slacking.