So, we have the flu at my house. Type B, the strain most of the midwest is seeing, different from Type A which is occuring mostly on the coasts, according to our pediatrician. My husband took off Tuesday and Wednesday and I put in for a substitute teacher for Thursday and Friday. Ah, co-parenting at its finest. I'm pretty lucky on that front, I know.
The 12 year old, whom I shall call Mr. Snarkyfus from here on, has been with fever since Monday evening, and yesterday morning the 10 year old went down. They are two totally different patients. Mr. Snarkyfus, for example, sleeps away his fever for days on end. The house is quiet and peaceful and quite lovely, actually, as I get caught up on things like laundry and bleaching everything he touches. I know he is feeling better when the talk-back returns. (No sullen silent treatment here, unfortunately.)
The 4th grader, however, is a whining machine when sick. I'm so tiiiiiired, so huuuuungry, I will not eat thaaaaat, why can't I have some iiiiiiiice creeeeeeam? He's a continuous cycle of up, down, bed, couch, cannot get comfortable, snuggly, DON'T TOUCH ME mess. It's exhausting.
Thank Goodness for the case of wine my parents gifted me at Christmas, so I don't have to run to the store every hour.
So. We're hanging in there. We're watching a lot of Shaun The Sheep, usually about the time I get sick of the thrasher metal music playing in the background of the computer games the boys love at Kongregate.net, and force everyone onto a different screen. This, I can watch all day.
I'm kind of enjoying the free time, although I shudder to think what shape my classroom will be in come Tuesday morning when we return.