File this under things that make me worry about myself

At some point over the weekend, Caroline developed a cough. She didn’t seem to necessarily feel bad and never had any fever, but it just sounded like the kind of vague childhood cough that could either turn out to be nothing or end with the two of us in a steamy bathroom in an attempt to help her breathe better while I mentally flog myself for not taking her to the doctor sooner.

By Sunday night I still couldn’t tell which way the cough was going to go, but she said she FELT FINE and, also, COULD I PLEASE STOP LOOKING AT HER WEIRD EVERY TIME SHE COUGHED. So I made the executive decision to give her cough medicine before bed and then just let her sleep until she woke up Monday morning and figure out what to do from there.

She woke up yesterday morning around 8:15 and immediately asked, “Is it late? Am I late for school?”

“Yes, baby. I decided to let you sleep in because I wanted to make sure you weren’t getting sick.”

“WELL I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS AT ALL. I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yes, I feel fine and if I miss school then I won’t get my free ice cream.”

Because she hasn’t missed a day of school this year, she’s discovered that you get a certificate for free ice cream from McDonalds for each nine week period with perfect attendance. And, clearly, free ice cream trumps possible pneumonia.

Ultimately I agreed that she seemed to be fine and so I drove her to school where she was about an hour late, but the whole thing kind of threw my day off. I guess I expected to be home all day with a sick kid and I just never rebounded into doing anything productive. Or maybe I was just so stunned that a child who shares my DNA would be so eager to go to school as opposed to milking her ill health.

Anyway, the rest of the day flew by and all of a sudden I looked at the clock and realized it was time to go pick her up. I hurriedly threw on my shoes, grabbed my purse and made sure that I had my phone. There is nothing that makes me crazier than to realize I’ve left my cell phone at home. It’s like being instantly transported back to the paleolithic era known as the early 90’s when people weren’t completely accessible at all times and had social skills beyond sitting at a table with someone and texting the whole time.

I picked Caroline up and told her we could go to Sonic because I know how she loves the Mozzarella Sticks and I know how I love a Route 44 Diet Coke. So I ordered our food and then drove up to the window where I began to dig in my purse for my wallet.

And while I was looking, this is what I found.

Apparently I am no longer content with just making sure I have my cell phone, but feel the need to carry around my home phone as well.

Idiot.