Doctor Daddy

Yesterday I wrote about missing my first math club meeting as its sponsor. Today I get to write about missing my first day of school this year. Tomorrow my ship is scheduled to set sail. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll be missing that (just a metaphor, I'm not taking to the high seas anytime soon.)

Last night, for the first time since our children were infants rising to feed every two hours, I was waking up every 1.523 hours (that's every hour, thirty one minutes, and 22.8 seconds--approximately, of course) thanks to my daughter's body's desire to regurgitate its stomach contents--in OUR bed. It was like beautiful clockwork. And by beautiful, I mean abhorrent.

She was always kind enough to give us an unintentional warning. She'd start moaning and whining. Then she'd start yelling "trash can, trash can, trash c-aaaaaaaaaa-bllaaaaaaah-aaaaaaaa-bbllaaaaaaah" *cough* We were always able to catch SOME of it, namely the two subsequent episodes that shortly followed.

After her third fulmination of Kraft's finest macaroni dinner, she'd settle down, we'd clean her up, change the sheets, and take out the liners in the trash can. Then we'd all lay down for another nice, uninterrupted 1.523 hours of sleep, not including the actual time it takes to fall BACK asleep, which for me is around 1.513 hours, give or take 0.01 hours.

It is really hard for me to see my "Beautiful Sweet Sunshine Angel Baby Pink and Purple Punky Princess Muffin Cakes" be in so much agony. I kept thinking that if only it were her BROTHER that were sick instead of her. Just kidding, it's just as hard for me when he's the one crying like a little girl, perhaps even much, much harder.

No, if someone's got to be sick in the family, I'd like it to be me, although my wife would gladly step in for me, since she claims I'm the biggest baby of them all. It's really the thought that counts, though. I mean, we can't actually get sick in someone's place. But we certainly MAY get our turn.

Which brings me back to what I might be missing tomorrow . . . So far, I'm still feeling just fine, and my little patient seems to be doing much better as well. It's probably because I make such a great can of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup and the extra doses of medicine I "prescribe" to her take to her body like someone much older and heavier. I don't think those three Barbie videos we watched hurt her any, either.

I really do hate missing school. It's almost more work getting things ready for a substitute, and even harder finding one that can teach upper-level mathematics (too bad the math doesn't just teach itself), not to mention being up at school at the ghostly hour of 4:30am when the school is empty, the lights are off, and there's no one to come help me with the paper jam in the photocopier.

Nonetheless, my daughter and I had such a silly, good time today; it was a very nice, unplanned, fortuitous quarantine. If laughter is the best medicine, then my fortunate daughter shouldn't get sick again this year, and I'm inoculated at least through the weekend. Yep, Dad is the MAN!

I should probably go check on her pretty soon, though. That Barbie double feature is bound to be over by now.