Godzilla woke this morning with a high temp.
Bugger. My brother was coming to take them to the movies today. He won’t take Chippie (spoil sport) but was gonna take the older two.
I figured I’d do the sensible thing and not mention it to Godzilla, in the vain hope that he’d forgotten all about it. Quite frankly, I did not want to have to deal with the whole “but I want to GO!” tatrum thing some four hours earlier than necessary.
I sat on his bed, finger-combing his hair, dosing him up on panadol and checking he was ok. Bad move. Monkey Boy came in and asked me, rather loudly “So, he’s not coming to the movies with us today?”
Um, please shut up. I gave him The Look (one of several specially designed glares that indicate to the child to shut the fuck up) and, belatedly, covered Godzilla’s ears. Perhaps hoping his being sick also affected the speed of sound and caused a significant delay in the stupid comment made by his brother getting to his ears.
As it turned out, I had little to worry about, as he was feeling so crap he didn’t care, nor did he get out of bed. He managed to get himself up when my brother arrived, and promptly fell asleep on him, then moved to the couch and fell asleep on that.
As evil as it sounds, sometimes I quite like it when they are unwell – they’re very quiet and wriggle less when you’re lying on the couch with them, watching kids DVDs. They still complain loudly, however, when you attempt to watch Love Actually.