As if things weren’t bad enough at work this week. As if it weren’t bad enough that I still had a ‘work’ to go to. I got a call from the daycare at 4:50pm informing me that C “wasn’t herself” and that they were taking her temperature.
She slept all the way home. Then she stood in the middle of my room crying softly as I undressed her and tucked her into my bed with a sippy of milk so she could veg out in front of some Noggin. The miracle of Motrin brought down the fever a bit and she went to sleep sweetly in her own bed. (Who wants to bet someone leaves a comment berating me for medicating my child? What? No one wants to wager a little something? Party poopers.)
I fed Little L a bottle before putting her down. She felt warm to me so I pulled out my own trusty thermometer.
Send help. Or chocolate. Or coffee. Or all three, whatever you think is best.