Sunday S3 was fine. Fully over the flu. He devoured the famous grilled hamburgers his Daddy made. He played hard and ate well and slept fine.
But on Monday, when it was time for school, he doubled over in pain, crying his tummy hurt.
I told him he had to ask his Daddy if he could stay home. I can be suckered into letting them stay home rather easily. Daddy can not. Daddy was sleeping but woke up to see that S3 needed to stay home.
So, S3 put his jammies back on and wailed and cried in pain as he stumbled up the steps. He was soon silent and I assumed he was sleeping.
Daddy woke up in time to run the only healthy boy to school.
As soon as the truck had arrived at the end of the driveway, I jumped in alarm as I heard the pounding of feet stomp down the steps, the shooting of the pretend loud shotgun going off and the whooping and hollering of......S3.
"She's gone! She's gone!" he cried happily, assuming Daddy was still sleeping and I had taken S1 to school. "We can play now! Come on! Wahoo!" he called to his little brother.
He rounded the corner with a huge grin on his face.
And seen me.
Instantly he dropped his gun as if it were on fire. He hung his head. He barely squeaked out "Um, Moma, I am feeling a little better now. Can I come down to play now?'
He went to school the next day.