Remember sick days? Laying on the couch in your PJs with a Kleenex stuck up your nose or the designated barf bowl within arms reach. Every fifteen to thirty minutes the kind soul who stayed home with you would check your temperature, bring you a Sprite, administer meds, etc. I don’t know about you, but I think there is something medicinal about daytime TV: Price is Right, Family Feud, Montell Williams, and Maury.
It turns out that sicks days for parents is not that much different. On top of his lingering cold, Bradley has a stomach bug. How do I still adore my child after I watched him puke while simultaneously forcing out a snot bubble? Damn, I love him! Anyway, I sat in my PJs all day, watched daytime TV, administered Pedialyte every now and then, while launching for the barf bowl at the first sign of heavage. It’s like a really gross circle of life.
Funny side story: One time, when I was little, I had the flu and my dad stayed home with me. I couldn’t eat much, but for lunch I got hard-boiled eggs and Sprite. That is just a gross combo if you don’t have the stomach flu. When my mom got home I told her between heaves over the barf bowl and traumatized tears what Chef Dad had served. Man, was he in trouble! He never got to stay home with me again. I think he did it on purpose. Like when you accidentally drop a plate while doing the dishes.
