One of the worst diseases that a kid can get is the 99.3 disease. Just a slight fever, maybe a little runny nose, maybe a little cough. The. Worst. Because this is just enough to keep the kid out of daycare, thereby casting two working parents into the my-meeting-is-more-important-than-your-meeting pit of hell. Then if you lose that argument (which I usually do and I can’t imagine why) you have to deal with a mostly healthy kid that wants to play and be entertained. If the kid has an honest to goodness flu, then he’s conked on the sofa and easy as pie to take care of. Hell, I’ll even bid on that. Work from home. Pat the sick kid’s head every once in a while. Cinch.
But the perfectly well sick kid will drive you nuts. He’s like regular, just extra grumpy. Doesn’t know exactly what he wants but he wants it this very damn instant. It demonstrates to me that I am not temperamentally suited to be a stay-at-home. My day of nursing a healthy kid did lead to one beatific moment — pushing my kiddo in the swing on a perfect spring day. Not many of those left.
Coop will be four next month. He can swing himself and asked for a push just to be social I think. But you fall into that rhythm swinging a kid. He started singing a madeup song about being a superhero, oblivious to me. He was faster than Flash, swinging like that, and it made Flash mad, he sang, but he didn’t care. Somebody please slow down time.