Emmi woke up with a fever. I didn't need to take her temperature to know it was high. She was burning hot, and shivering. Great. I had so much to do today. Way too much to have a sick kid at home. But such is my luck.
I set her up on the couch. Winnie the Pooh blanket. Monkey. Hippo. Rar-rar (Which is a tiger, and says "raaaarrrrr." Hence the name.). A drink. A pop tart. Handy Manny on TV. She snuggled down, eyes at half mast. I had hope that maybe, just maybe it would go okay today. She was so sick, she wasn't moving.
Then her fever crept higher. She started dry-heaving. I generally like to let fever runs its course. Fevers happen for a reason. But when it starts getting too high, obviously I have to do something. I gave her Tylenol.
Thirty minutes later, I hear her shuffling around on the couch. Rar-rar flies across the room, followed by a loud "RAAAARRRRR" and a giggle as it hits the dog. Uh oh. From my vantage point, I see her blanket kicked to the ground, little legs waggling in the air.
Then.....she emerges. Screaming. Laughing. Happy. And she wants to play.
I got very little done today. I tried to bribe her with paints. She painted the wood floors. I gave her a new coloring book. She told me no. She spent most of the morning grabbing my hand whenever I tried to type. Makes it real easy to edit graphics with a kid hanging on my arm. So now that the kids are tucked in bed, I am still working. Not relaxing. Working.
I don't care how sick she is tomorrow. I am doping her up, and sending her to school.