All is not well at Housegoeshome. I am, knock on wood, the only family member who hasn’t succumbed to illness this week. I’m putting it down to giving up Diet Coke and not drinking alcohol for two whole nights. I am a paragon of virtue. (Until 6pm tonight, when I’ll slug a few pre-movie Pinot Grigios before perving at Matthew McConaughey in Magic Mike.)
Sprog 2 has been sick for days and finally, despite a chesty cough, agreed to go to school this morning. She might have stayed there, too, if I’d a) not made her walk 30 minutes to get there, b) given her a lunch order at the canteen and c) not told her I’d be available to pick her up at morning tea time – if absolutely necessary – after my pilates class.
But since I did make her walk 30 minutes to school and didn’t cunningly put a lunch order in, the office rang at 11am on the dot, telling me to come and collect her from sick bay.
By then, pilates had already been thwarted by Sprog 1. Husband (who is grouchily battling his own lurgy) had whipped her out of bed and driven her to band practice at 7.30am – hence me walking Sprog 2 to school – before any of us had a chance to notice her precarious health.
When I went to collect her trumpet at 8.45am she was looking decidedly peaky and angling to go home.
By 11.30am both Sprogs were both perched on the couch demanding food, drinks and entertainment. Neither of them looked particularly ill. Sprog 1 even had the audacity to suggest she might just have been a bit tired.
So I made them help me tidy up the house.
That will teach them to stay home sick. Much more fun at school.