So this morning, The King of the Wild Things comes upstairs and tells me he doesn't feel good. He is sniffling, congested, coughing and slightly nauseous. Poor baby. He's snuggled on the couch watching cartoons, with chicken soup. He was willing to take some Motrin, which indicates he really feels cruddy. Joe gave him a slide whistle to alert us to when we are needed. It reminded us of that Brady Bunch episode where Bobby Brady is sick and Carol gives him a bell. The whole family spends all day running up and down the stairs, finally becoming exasperated with the whole thing. T.K. of the W.T. has used it three times. He hasn't had any need to keep calling us, simply because we are already there, checking on him and helping him get tissues and more liquids. We didn't just park him in bed upstairs and forget about him.
So today, I plan on:
Doing ONE load of laundry
Changing the tablecloth on the kitchen table
Sweeping the floor
Seeing The Most Beautiful Girl in the World when she comes home this afternoon.
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