“Mama. I’m sick. Come home to me.”
And so I did. I raced out of my office at 4:50. I hopped on the train, so worried about my little girl. The only thing I knew was that she was feeling sick. She went on her class field trip to, well, somewhere, a farm, maybe, and had to sit in the shade for most of the day because her head was hurty. She was sad that she missed the arts and crafts on the trip. I stopped at this gift store at the subway station and overpaid to buy her a farm animal sticker and activity book.
I pulled up to the driveway and smushed the heck out of my little sickie.
And then she ate dinner.
And then she drank pop.
And then she ate some chocolate coins.
And then she hopped into my bed with her pillow pet and her giant pigslashpossum.
And then we watched Land of the Lost.
And then we sang a few Cher songs.
And then we sang a few A Chorus Line songs.
And then we did some arts and crafts.
And that was right about when she turned to me and said,
“I LOVE BEING SICK!”
It was pretty much her best night ever.
Maybe she wasn’t sick at all. Maybe she just wanted to spend the evening watching movies and eating junk food in my bed. Maybe she just needed some Mommy time.
(Or maybe I will be up all night…)
(But I’d really rather assume that it was just a case of Mommy-itis.)
Now, of course, I have to wonder what my sick-but-not-sick evening might look like, as I’m sure you can probably guess, it would probably not involve arts and crafts or chocolate coins or pop or Cher songs. Well, with the exception of that Half Breed song because, oh my god, sometimes you can’t not sing that song and think of that headdress.
I guess my night would involve coffee
and cookie dough
and kettle corn
and John Hughes movies
and Mad Men reruns
and my Settlers of Catan app
and a good book
and some e-retail therapy
and some photography tutorials
and maybe some Cher songs.