Monkey Boy was sick today.

Yesterday, he had a sore head, snotty nose and sore throat. Much like I was experiencing at the time, and which has increased in pain and snottiness significanlty overnight. A result of the last few weeks (and days) of stress, and possibly also the contribution from Chippie how has a decent dose of croup only a week ago and has been snotty and revolting since.

No, it was a sore tummy, which I was convinced was a desperate need to poo and gave me ample opportunity to rant at him about his lack of fruit and vegetable consumption.

Given my fuzziness of head and lack of fight, I was still considering the fact he had a similarly head-throat feeling I did and he convince me he was sick enough to stay home. Under the “no DS, no Wii, no Lego, no TV, no nothing and etc etc” Rule.

He agreed. Which is possibly why I was convinced. He got through most of the day, lazing around and reading. Some eating. Not much. No request to do anything in the Forbidden When Home Sick list, until just before 3.00pm when he requested to play Lego.

I walked to school to collect Godzilla, during which time the snottiness of my head increased tenfold and my body started to ache. Fatigue also kicked in. And it was cold, damn it. Godzilla wanted to play on the playground, so I did the “but I’m cold and tired and hungry” thing which only caused him to run off and play on the playground.


Arrive home. Plan to cook pies. Discover only one sheet of puff pastry remaining, which has been stuffed in the freezer at an awkward angle and breaks on removal. Swear and rant a bit.

Retire to office to get three emails sent off; all of which have been on my list to today, and all of which I’ve forgotten to do, and only remembered on walking away and going to hang the clothes out. I did start to do them at 9.07 this morning. But didn’t.

Monkey Boy chooses this crucial moment to inform me that he had “done a poo and feel much better and I think that’s all it was”. No shit. Well, yes shit, but you know what I mean. Hadn’t I been saying this all day?

This, apparently, allows him to go and play Lego, but I’m not falling for it. I attempt to remind him of his Sick From School Agreement, but he is involved in a stand off with Godzilla regarding entering the toy room that he shouldn’t be in and I get all befuddled, and yell at him to let Godzilla in.

It is when Chippie starts up, banging on the door, yelling and then crying that I recall Monkey Boy isn’t to be in there at all and my head is now throbbing and I can’t concentrate.

“Let him in, or get out!” I advise him. The unsaid component of that instruction doesn’t require stating. He knows damn well what that means.

He argues, Chippie screams some more, he tries to give me some convinving argument as to a) why he is even in there when he is “sick” and b) why Chippie is not allowed in there (even though he is not “sick”). But Chippie’s cries are driving me NUTS and if someone doesn’t cooperate soon, I will lose the plot.

Also, half of one email is done and I really just want them ticked off the list. Is that too much to ask?

As it turns out, the thick rubber band, wound around the inside door handles of the toy room as a makeshift lock/toddler detterant (I only wish I had double doors on my office with which I could do this very same thing) just … snapped.

It snapped only seconds after I did.

Also, it may or may not have “snapped” with the aid of a pair of scissors that may or may not have been in my hands at the time.

Huh. What a coincidence …

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