We just got back a little while ago from Surfer Dude's band performance, a show he's been really stressed out about. It went beautifully and he did a terrific job as the only baritone on the whole stage.
He has just crawled in my bed saying he feels sick as a dog and that he thinks he's going to puke. Let me just say this straight out. The kid is a puker. Gumby is pathologically afraid of anything even resembling vomit and runs screaming from the room whenever SD holds his belly. Can I tell you that this is not a good combination?
I'm scheduled to start three in a row at work tomorrow. Someone asked me to change a day for a kid related reason (theirs) and I did, knowing I have to juggle around kid schedules too, especially at the end of the school year. But right before he fell into an uneasy slumber he said,
"Please promise me that if I throw up you'll call in sick tomorrow."
I have six sick days to my name and five of them will be used for our California trip in July. I almost never use my PTO days for me, as any mother will attest. I use them when my kids are sick. But damn, I hate being down to one day. So what did I say?
"Of course, honey. If you're sick I'll call in."
So now we wait...
Friday, May 8, 2009
Posted by the rotten correspondent at 12:02 AM