|Monday, Dec. 18, 2006 || That mother of the year award? Um, yeah. We need that back.|
I subbed last Monday, and during first hour, K popped in and said that she wasn't feeling well and that her teacher and the office staff said she could lay down in the nurse's office for a bit as long as it was okay with me. She looked a bit ragged, but not too bad, but I agreed that would be fine.
She wandered back among the living at lunch hour, but pretty much hung out with me the rest of the day (I was subbing for her class after lunch anyway, so no biggie). She weaseled out of the basketball practice, but as soon as we got home, she proceeded with her normal modus operandi - homework, phone, computer, TV. All the things any normal, healthy 14-year-old would do on a school night. And nary an "I don't feel good" all evening.
The next morning, she meets Rob on his way to the shower and proclaims that she doesn't feel good. He tells her to take some ibuprofen and lay back down for a bit, but she is going to school.
She gets up and showers about a half hour later and then wanders down to my room, just as I am realizing I set my alarm clock wrong (Gah!). "I don't feel good," she croaks.
"Take a cold tablet and lay down on the couch for a little while," I tell her.
But what I am thinking is:
Mmmm, hmmmm. I see how it is, you little stinker. You want a day off so you can sleep in after staying up late all weekend. Now you are overtired. But I'll fix you! As soon as I get out of the shower I am taking your temperature. Then I can say, "Ah ha! You don't even have a fever! You played around all last night, healthy as can be, and now you want to stay home? Yeah, right!"
Feeling smug and self-assured, I pop the thermometer in her mouth and set the timer for 3 minutes (because, of course, all the battery powered, cool, digital ones are dead, so we are back to the old fashion, shake your arm off before you can even take the temp kind).
Beep, beep, beep.
With relish (not the green nasty kind - think dramatic sweeping motion - yeah, I was all about showing her what was what), I grab the thermometer, turn it ever so gently to reveal...
Have you ever seen those old Tom and Jerry cartoons where Tom sinks into a puddle on the floor like every bone in his body just melted?
That about sums up how I felt at that exact moment.
"That mother of the year award? Um, yeah. We need that back."
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