My baby! My baby! I feel like Mrs. Jumbo, in Dumbo. But really, my baby!
My Little Guy is really sick this time. He's a hypochondriac to end all hypochondriacs. This is the kid who wanted to stay home because his temperature was dangerously close to 99. A couple of years ago he was dragging himself around the house by his arms, and when a friend asked him why, his response was, "My legs are loose." The same boy whom the nurse called about LAST Thursday because he felt sick. Whom the nurse calls about at least once a month. But he is always looking around and making cheerful conversation with the other children. This boy who knows no strangers, gives away everything he has, and loves animals, is the same boy who is always about to die.
This same boy was telling me, just this morning, that his stomach hurt and he felt like he was going to throw up. The same thing he told me yesterday morning. He was making every excuse not to go to school, I thought, but had no fever, and his color was good. And he ate breakfast. Which he neatly deposited in the aisle of the school bus a few minutes later. Can we say Bad Parent?
So now he's home. He claimed, at first, to be feeling better. I highly suspect that my perpetually runny nosed child just had a case of post nasal drip which had to go somewhere - it's happened before. But he started feeling very poorly again when I asked him to clean his room. Poor baby.
I ask you: Does this boy look sick? Does he? I am just not sure. Does he look sick enough to be watching Star Wars IV: A New Hope for the millionth time? It's what he pops in any time he has the TV to himself. And remote control - does that say sick to you? I just can't tell. Help!
Until I write again ...