When I was a kid, my mother worked and my maternal grandmother cared for me on sick days. They were wonderful. She made me all sorts of food (I was her "notorious eating companion," remember) and made me a lovely bed on the couch and let me watch t.v. My mother would arrive on her lunch hour with a new toy. It probably doesn't come as a shock to find out I missed a lot of school in my early years.
With my own kids I tend to push them out the door unless they are obviously and genuinely sick. If one complains of some minor generic problem such as a headache or stomachache, I tend to provide a small dose of medication and shove him or her onto the bus with the advice to go to the nurse if it gets worse and have her call me. At least 99% of the time I don't get such a call and all is well. With Foghorn's particular problem, though, the school likes kids to stay home, so I let her sleep late and braced myself for the day ahead.
So, what does an energetic child do with an unexpected day off? Well, first she puts on a droopy, mournful face whenever she's asked how she's feeling, just on the off-chance that mother might deem her well enough to get in a half day of school. I hardly find it coincidental that Foghorn's energy level increased as the day progressed and it came closer to school dismissal time. For the first 3/4 of the day she was very quiet, watching Arthur and reading Christmas books. Once her brother was home the sounds of screams and thumping feet were back. Before dinner, though, she settled into her "new job," as she called it. She decided to create a line of greeting cards.
|She has grand plans for expanding her line.|
|For the moment we have Congratulations on Your New Dog and Merry Christmas cards.|
There's this Get Better Soon card:
Today is the day I will die if you don't get better.
So please get better.
|And a birthday card:|
Dear Best Friend,
Sorry to say
That today is your birthday.
So have a great day.
Hip hip hooray!
|And The Professor's suggestion: a card for someone you don't like.|
Here we see the front.
|Here we see the back.|
|And a lovely little verse on the inside:|
I don't see the real thing.
Here comes me, The King.
"Poo" is what I say to you.
I don't like you.
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