Younger is home from school today. Just as he was yesterday.
After two snow days, during which he could have been sick with impunity, he decides to succumb to a stomach virus on the very exact day everyone else is returning to school. One would almost believe it was all a dramatic plan of bamboozlement. But he’s not quite that accomplished an actor.
I don’t think.
But, anyway, he’s home, sprawled on the sofa with a jug of water, a bottle of Sprite, and a package of crackers close to hand. After supplying him with these few needs and nearing the end of my lunch hour, I asked him to let me know if he planned to take a nap, so I wouldn’t worry if he didn’t return a checking-in text.
So, a little while after returning to work, I received this text…
“I keep falling awake.”
I studied the words for a minute then replied, “Well, most people have the opposite problem.”
“See I think I’m awake,” he wrote, “then I wake up.”
“Maybe you should just give up and take a nap.”
“But I might be napping now.”
I shook my head then typed, “Only if I’m the one dreaming.”
“Unless dreams exist in their own plane of existence.”
Battling a headache myself, I replied, “I don’t think I’m up to maintaining this conversation right now.”
And with true generosity, he typed back, “We will continue it in your dreams.”
In my nightmares, more like.
Don’t some people advocate small doses of alcohol for sick kids? To help them sleep or something?
Or is that large doses of alcohol for the parent?