Caroline was out of school on Monday to celebrate the President’s Day holiday. It’s always a big holiday for us. We decorate our President’s Day tree, hide colored eggs, and have the whole family over for a big turkey dinner where we all wear stove-pipe hats.
Or maybe I just complain about the fact that we don’t get any mail and the banks are closed. I can’t really remember.
Anyway, this year we decided to head out to the Stock Show and Rodeo because the folks at the rodeo like to celebrate President’s Day by charging only $1.00 for every single ride. That is a lot of trips on the ferris wheel. However, someone failed to notify the people selling the turkey legs and corn dogs about the perilous economic times in which we are living because they were charging $8.00 per turkey leg. For just one leg. I remember when you could get a whole turkey for $8.00 even though you had to walk uphill in the snow both ways to get it.
Gulley and her boys went with us and the kids had a great time. Eventually our money ran out and it started to rain, so we headed to the car. I was slightly amazed that Caroline didn’t beg to stay for just a few more minutes, but decided she was probably tired since she didn’t sleep good the night before.
We got home and I turned on the T.V. hoping that she would settle in and rest for a little bit, then I went in the kitchen to unload the dishwasher. At some point I realized she was really quiet and peeked in the living room to see if she was wreaking some sort of havoc in the form of permanent markers or eating her body weight in Valentine’s chocolate.
I was stunned to see that she was fast asleep on the couch. Seriously, Caroline falling asleep mid-day is an event that is so unprecedented I scanned the room to see if I was on Candid Camera.
She slept for about an hour and woke up with flushed cheeks and watery, sad eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was sick, which was fortunate considering that we don’t have any geniuses living in our house. P may beg to differ, but being able to tell how old a deer is from fifty yards isn’t necessarily on the MENSA test.
I gave her some Tylenol and put her to sleep in my bed. She was feverish and restless all night long, so when she woke up around 8:00, I told her that she wasn’t going to school. Bless her heart, she started crying and told me, “I just know they’re going to do something fun and I’m going to miss it!”
We went to see the pediatrician because deep in my heart I just knew it was the flu. They gave her the flu test where they stick a swab up your nose and, let me tell you, she was not happy. Caroline tends to be very dramatic about things that she doesn’t like. If she falls down, she’s been known to yell, “I DON’T EVER WANT TO WALK ON THAT GROUND AGAIN. I DON’T LIKE THAT GROUND!” And it doesn’t really do any good at that point to explain the laws of gravity and physics, so I usually just go along with whatever she says and within three minutes she usually forgives the ground and decides to give it another chance.
My point is that when that swab went up her nose, she was ready to ban cotton swabs from the face of the earth forever. If she knew any profanities, she would have yelled them right there in that lab. And then ten minutes later they confirmed that she has the flu and I wanted to say some profanities of my own.
Namely, I’d like to have a word with the makers of Flu Mist because what exactly was the point of paying that extra money to give my child the Flu Mist if she’s going to get the flu anyway? And not just any flu, but the strain of flu that was specifically supposed to be avoided by getting the aforementioned Flu Mist?
Dear Flu Mist,
You are a crock and are now dead to me.
Good riddance,
Melanie
So, yeah. She has the flu. And I didn’t get a flu shot (not that it matters apparently), so now I’m just hoping it doesn’t take us all down.
On the bright side, “Horton Hears A Who” was available on pay-per-view and I’ve never been so thankful for that lovable elephant and his wee speck of dust. They made a fever-filled afternoon a little bit brighter.
Not to mention the fact that the Girl Scouts of America showed up on my doorstep like green angels sent from heaven bearing the Thin Mints and Lemon Chalets I’d ordered a month ago. It made me realize that the Girl Scout motto is true. They are always prepared.
Or maybe that’s the Boy Scout motto.
Whatever.
Did you not read the part about me being home with a sick child with the flu in spite of the faulty Flu Mist? I’m doing the best I can.
Here’s hoping that Horton and the Thin Mints will get us through.