Monday, August 20, 2012

Year of writing 231. The day after.

8/20/12

I got in last night at 2:30 or so.  Miles woke up at 5:45.  Do the math.  As I got up to get some toys to occupy Mr. Killjoy, my back started having spasms so badly I could do nothing but stand at a ridiculous angle making faces like a cod that just landed in the boat.  Basically I was the leaning tower of fish face for what seemed like days, but was probably just a couple minutes.  Once I could safely move without my spine ejecting itself from my body, I realized how groggy and cloudy I felt.  I have taught school long enough to understand when I'm getting sick - and I was deep in it at this point.  So to recap, it's 5:50 AM, I've had 3 hours of sleep, I have a head and chest cold, and my back doesn't work.  This had the makings of an epic clusterfuck of a day. 

However, my lovely daughter  decided that today was the day she would become the bastion for all things 4 years old.  She politely asked me to print her some coloring pages from the internet - to which I happily obliged, then proceeded to spend the next three and a half hours coloring Smurfs, fairies, Powerpuff Girls and Star Wars characters.  Miles scooted around on the floor contentedly, and I lay down on the carpet like a throw rug.  Then, when I had to put Miles down for his first nap, Isla suggested I let her play on the iPad while I slept with Miles.  This is my four year old daughter taking care of me.  I think I'm in good hands when I get old and decrepit.  OK, older and decrepiter. 

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