The GFYO is down for the count. He is chapped-lipped, red-cheeked, static-haired fever boy.
He would not do the Jumpy Thing at the icky mall (an outing people! a staycation adventure!) which tipped me off to his illin. As did the hacking. And the mouth-breathing. And when he said "my ears hurt!" it helped the diagnosis too (am I Dr. House, or what?). But we were already there, thirty minutes from home, on an adventure in the mall, and dammit, fun would be had.
He fell asleep in a grocery cart I swiped. It looked like I was pushing around a Short Drunk Person. Which I guess is better than pushing around a swiped grocery cart filled with swiped aluminum cans. But still...
Me and the girls raced through the errand we actually needed to do (file folders, what with all the home organizing I do) like we were on a game show: "aisle six!" "no! aisle five" "RUN!!!" "Here, take these trash bags!" Bonus points and all.
We got the passed out GFYO to the car and IN the car and finally, home to the couch where he hallucinated his way through much of the afternoon. The girls played with these foul blow-up tongues they needed (don't ask) (really, don't) and I put a load of laundry in and stripped the bed.
I sat down at the screen finally to find an email asking Ivy League mothers to write 3,000 words about what it means to be a working parent or... to not be a working one and how that relates to the experience we apparently shared.
Let's just say: I wish I was less tired and more inspired, but really? I don't need 3,000 words. I just need this:
Short Drunk Person in shopping cart.
Asleep and sick and snotty.
Need toilet paper too.
No one asks for Degree (or pedigree) at Check-out.
No one cares.
Life goes on.
Thankfully.
10commentsBrilliant Person Wrote...
Poor baby. He has the right mommy though. My baby is sicker than sick right now too, and it has a way of making the world crumble for me. Sick sucks.
I once dragged my then-six year old youngest through Ikea with similar symptoms.
Ikea! We were there for a month.
Life goes on indeed.
Poor little dude. He needs orange juice and chicken soup. And his nurse probably needs beer and Fritos right about now . . .
You had me at Hallucinations.
Seriously. There is nothing so soul-Wrecking as a sick little 'un.
I would have been more than willing to Fed Ex some TP your way. Just drop a line next time.
3000 words. They going to pay your for that? I think you summed it up pretty damn nicely
Blow-up tongues?
There never seems to be any toilet paper here (or no one here to get a roll when you need it), and it seems like the only time I use the word degree now is when I'm taking someone's temp.
on and on, for sure.
No one asks for degree at check out! Perfect.
I'm just wondering if all three of you girls had to carry that GFYO out of the cart in Target and into the car.
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