Robin’s so sweet, sprawled on the couch with his head on the blue checked pillow Great Aunt Ernestine made.
After I’d spent two weeks first committing to the switch from part-time to full-time freelance, then interviewing child care providers, updating immunizations, filling out paperwork…little guy gets sick. Let’s hope it’s just a short-lived rebound from the flu shot the other day.
I’m a little sick too. Stayed up too late Saturday and awakened early Sunday morning by crying toddler. Sunday night I awoke at 2:35 even though no one was crying! But my mind kept making lists, so I couldn’t go back to sleep until 5am.
Then last night liquid mucous drained down the back of my throat and I kept coughing, clearing throat, drinking water and going to the bathroom. Gagged on throat spray.
This morning: knackered. Kitchen a mess of oily bits of pesto fettucine sticking to the inside of the pot and sundry other surfaces. Drops of red jello and jello powder, bread crumbs hiding in the grout of my pink tiled counter. We didn’t drink that much on Halloween; we just went to bed before thinking to clean up.
Fuzz-head Camilla couldn’t find her shoes this morning and I grouched at her to find them or else. Don’t come to the breakfast table without shoes on. Where could that one pink rubber-soled slip-on go? She wore it last night Trick-or-treating and changed clothes and went to bed.
Sink in the kids’ bathroom is globbed with the red, white, and green of CJ’s new toothpaste (as opposed to the blue gel or the white-flecked-with-red toothpaste she got on her last visit to the dentist). Ivan retrieved some hand-me-down sneakers for her from the van.
Must have been there from the last time Robin came out to the van wearing them. He loves to put on big shoes. Mommy’s and daddy’s shoes are cool but Sister’s shoes are light enough that he can walk all the way down the hall in them and lift up his feet without them falling off. So on some mornings, while frizzy sister is brushing and globbing up the sink, I let Robin wear whatever clunkies he wants to wear, in the interest of getting him to the car with minimum fuss.
I strap him in and dash back inside to pour his cup of milk, attach sippy lid and anti-spill device, zip it all in the green monogrammed lunchbox along with his PBJ and tiny containers of steamed carrot bites and plum slices. A cheese stick, a snack of goldfish and raisins, or some black beans, screwed shut, snapped shut, a napkin or spoon tucked in. And off we go.
Except not today because he’s sick.