My son has the Man Flu. This was an observation made by his father last night as we listened to him moan and whimper, and while I don’t know if small girls make these same sounds when sick (presumably they do), the similarities between Indy’s complaints and Ted’s when he’s sick were so exact as to be very funny. :)
Ted, however, doesn’t generally throw up on me. Poor child. This was by far the biggest throw-up he’s ever done, and he had *no* idea what was happening, but was (quite reasonably) very upset by it. Me, I always say it’s not *really* a Friday until somebody’s puked on you…
He (Young Indiana, not Ted) asked if he could watch Peter Pan, a movie which I do not like at all. In view of him being sick, I gritted my teeth and said yes, but I lasted about five minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore and said we’re going to have to find something else to watch, honey, Mommy doesn’t like this movie. “Why?” said he, and I said because it’s misogynistic and racist and he said “Oh” and I turned it off.
Possibly these are not the kinds of answers other parents give their children… (“Why does Daddy have to go to work?” “Because we live in a society that doesn’t value human beings for their inherent worth and obliges us to work for wages in order to survive.” “Oh.” / “Why is it Christmas?” “Because the Christian cult changed the date of their prophet’s birth from April to December 25 in order to hijack the solstice celebrations of so-called pagan faiths to make Christianity more palatable to them.” “Oh.” (That conversation was while we were on a bus into town. The older woman sitting behind us turned around and stared at me in horror.))
Anyway, it’s supposed to be the warmest day of the year here so far and I expect to spend it all inside nursing a miserable sad little boy. (“Mommy, this is a TERRIBLE day!”)