But I have stuff to do. My parents are coming on Thursday to surprise the boys. They have no idea. Shh… don’t tell. Good thing my parents love me, because they may have to wash their own sheets when they get here. Elliot’s birthday is this weekend. He’s getting a new bike. Also, shh… don’t tell. And he requested a giant cookie instead of a cake (love him!). So I’d better get on that.
But my brain just keeps saying… couch… mmmm… sit on the couch. No, no… lay on the couch. Oh! Oh! Just kidding… lay in your bed. Yes. Do that.
Meanwhile, my sick children are fending for themselves. The virus is messing with their brains, too… they can’t even fight properly. They just wail at one another from opposite ends of the house, pathetically. But sick kids are funny, one minute its as if they are near death; snuggling, sleepy, little lumps of sadness. And five minutes later they are chasing each other up and down the stairs in their underwear.
I don’t get it. I just want to lay in my bed.