Lurgy
Child Two has the lurgy. It's gone round school so much that they have even sent a letter home about it, saying that, uh, there's a lurgy going round school. Year 3 have got twelve children off, I am told in breathless excitement. We haven't had so much drama in school since the portakabin lorry took the top out of the neighbour's tree delivering the new Year 5 classroom.
Child Two is normally a robust and optomistic little girl. To see her pale and tired and coughing herself sick is not a pleasant experience for any parent. We did all the damp towels on the radiator, cough medicine, Calpol-y things, but still she couldn't settle. Eventually, last night, we told her that she wouldn't have to go to school today: just to stop her worrying about it and in the hope that this would help her finally to get to sleep. It worked after a fashion, and she did sleep, more or less, for the rest of the night. She slept through the rest of us getting up this morning, so we left her, curled up warm under her soft duvet with her rabbit teddy, sucking her fingers (her own, not the rabbit's. Rabbits don't have fingers).
When she eventually awoke at about school time, she seemed quite resigned to be not going, and actually ate quite a lot of breakfast in bed for a poorly seven year old. Demanded biscuits, more juice and hot blackcurrent, in fact. Asked questions about what was on Nickleodeon and Pop at this time of day.
It's now coffee time *thump*, I'm trying to work *thump*, and she's *thump* doing gymnastics on my *thump* bed.
Child Two is normally a robust and optomistic little girl. To see her pale and tired and coughing herself sick is not a pleasant experience for any parent. We did all the damp towels on the radiator, cough medicine, Calpol-y things, but still she couldn't settle. Eventually, last night, we told her that she wouldn't have to go to school today: just to stop her worrying about it and in the hope that this would help her finally to get to sleep. It worked after a fashion, and she did sleep, more or less, for the rest of the night. She slept through the rest of us getting up this morning, so we left her, curled up warm under her soft duvet with her rabbit teddy, sucking her fingers (her own, not the rabbit's. Rabbits don't have fingers).
When she eventually awoke at about school time, she seemed quite resigned to be not going, and actually ate quite a lot of breakfast in bed for a poorly seven year old. Demanded biscuits, more juice and hot blackcurrent, in fact. Asked questions about what was on Nickleodeon and Pop at this time of day.
It's now coffee time *thump*, I'm trying to work *thump*, and she's *thump* doing gymnastics on my *thump* bed.
crisis will happen in one day less than yesterday, however many that was
posted by crisiswhatcrisis at
11:26 am
2 Comments:
we're all sick here too
do you want the graphic details? headacheearacheneckachebackache sorethroatsorechest pukingvomitingtheotherending
we're on day eight now, has gone round five people and back to the beginning again
on another note, have you commented on your friend Surly's blog? See the Beep and follow his link, or just go straight round toe D-Chime whatever and cheer her up
best wishes, from a thin reedy croak (brilliant WV: vicksvapourrub)
By
I, Like The View, at 9:46 am
oh yeah, we locked the cartoon channels a while back, so my lot have to endure Discovery Channel and other educational programmes (like Time Team) - or repeats of The Simpsons and Futurama on Sky
By
I, Like The View, at 9:47 am
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