That Little Monkey

I was had by the three-year old.

Yesterday, Monday, she woke up, coughed a couple of lung barks that had me expecting a green monster to leap out of her mouth next, and then she cried, "I can't go school! I SICK!"

While I ignored this for the first hour and a half, putting together breakfast, putting together snack, getting people dressed, after awhile it became decision time. Rather than march a preschooler into school wailing "I SICK!" accompanied by a lusciously mucusy cough, I decided to keep her home. I called the school office to note her absence, and sent her back to bed. And sent her back to bed. And picked her up and put her back in bed. And began to regret keeping her home. And it was only 8:35 a.m.!

I alternated doing school with Monkey1 and reading books to Monkey2, while it rained outside. In the afternoon the sky cleared enough that I bundled up Monkey2 into the stroller while Monkey1 ran/lost her shoe/walked/ran/dragged her feet to the playground.

After supper, Monkey2 started flipping out over the vacuum cleaner, so I brushed her teeth, read her a book, and put her to bed at 6 p.m. For the first time since the morning, she coughed – just enough so that she asked for some medicine.

Yes, I remember, the night cough medicine tastes like grapes and is ever so much nicer than the cherry-flavored daytime cough medicine.