It’s another sick day. But not really. Tornado E’s mild fever broke last night sometime. And Tornado S was kept home because he developed a bunch of canker sores and kept crying and whining that I figured only someone who loved him unconditionally could take care of him under these circumstances. And Tornado A. Tornado A is 21 months. That should say it all.
Yesterday evening they were nearly mended, but apparently there was a side effect of a dose of daemon possession with the illness. Let me tell you how much fun that was. Maybe I shouldn’t. I’ll just say I started browsing airline tickets online.
Then today. Tornado E has canker sores too and a sore throat. He also lets out a keening whine when the pain gets to be too much. It grates on my nerves. Luckily Tornado S’s moaning of pain ended about a half hour after he was supposed to be in school. Joke was on him, though. I made him do school work. The only TV they watched during school hours was Sesame Street for Tornado A. Not that he watched it much. He preferred to whine at my leg, so I couldn’t make phone calls.
I burnt nap time trying to be a responsible parent. I made Tornado E read to me, the villainess that I am. Oh, how his throat hurt. He just could not possibly read. Could. Not. Read. I pointed out he was having a fine time screaming and yelling moments before, when the game he and Tornado S were playing one can only assume it was “Wake Up Tornado A and Watch Mommy Lose It.” Tornado A decided not to play. For that, I’m thankful. Since I was playing the sinister villain so well, I made Tornado S get back to the table and work on learning to write his name. You would think he would appreciate my turning to the dark side. But, alas, no.
So after much whining, fighting, crying, arguing, wishing, playing, learning, writing, cooking, not eating, cooking, eating, gargling, swishing, drinking, I gave in to a little TV. It is only a matter of time before Tornado A comes looking for me. I hear is whining now.
How many more hours to bedtime?