Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Tootie Gos a Fevr

Tootie is in kindergarten and she's learning to sound out her words and write them down. I'm very impressed with her progress but sometimes I can't help but to giggle at the stuff she writes. She has a fever this morning so she is home with me. I emailed her teacher to let her know she won't be there today but apparently email isn't quite personal enough for Tootie because she grabbed a pen and robbed Fidel's printer of paper to write out a note for her teacher. The first sentence was Tootie gos a fevr and she had drawn a picture of the school and then put an X over it. Then she drew a picture of herself with this funny bug-looking thing hopping out of her mouth. I asked her what it was and she said that was her fever.

Of course Fidel had to micromanage the sick day. He laid down the law of no playing, no going out for lunch or shopping, no going outside. You would swear he thinks I'm some moron he hired to babysit the kids if you overheard him sometimes. I wanted to say, "Actually, I'm taking her to run a freaking 5k and then we will hit Longhorn and have a couple of beers before we come home". I mean seriously, I can handle a sick day. He should probably be evaluated for mental disorders because obviously he has forgotten who takes care of him when he's sick and if you have ever known anyone with a penis, you know that they cannot be quietly sick. When I'm sick, all I want to do is rest and be left alone. If possible I stay in the bedroom so that I'm not disrupting the rest of the house. Fidel, however, likes to hole up in the family room so that he's disturbed by everything, and then I get to hear about it and try to make it go away. That's in between the constant requests for water, more ice, snacks, books, magazines, remotes, etc. I have Tootie set up on the couch with a L-Max, a glass of ice water and a marathon of Noggin. I think I could manage of army of sick kindergarteners with a Noggin marathon.

1 comment:

FunnyGal KAT said...

What is it about men and illness?!? My dad-- a big, manly man who will happily cut up his hands on machinery or strain muscles doing ummm... manly things-- is the biggest wimp when he gets sick! Whining, needing things brought to him, having to talk about every symptom. Luckily, I think I've trained my husband-to-be well because he just puts himself to bed until he feels better.