Grandpa Grandpa

My girls felt a little sick yesterday and had fevers.  Both were complaining of headaches and sore throats.  So we took the rest of the day off from school (darn).  At lunch time, I was feeling like a Susie Fantastic when I whipped out my homemade chicken noodle soup from the freezer.

Because this is now the WOMAN I have become.  I, Teller Maliblahblah, am no longer a girl, but a true grown up WOMAN.

Homemade chicken noodle soup. BAM!

I’m like the mom from Everybody Love Raymond, aren’t I?

(source)

And I felt pretty WOMAN-ly when I had to clean chunks of the aforementioned homemade soup out of the sink after a sick tummy decided it no-likey.  Such is life.  Everyone is sick except for me and Little Dude.

But Little Dude is a punk.

Albeit a cute punk.

Last night, David, who is also sick, fell asleep in bed around 9pm.  Sweet Pea, who was really sick that afternoon, had slept all day, so she was wide awake and came in bed with me.  We watched Little House on the Prairie, as per our usual custom.  At 11:30, I was almost asleep when Daisy Mae came upstairs.  Her heart was pounding, she was dizzy, and her fever was 103.9.  So, I made Sweet Pea a bed on the floor and put Daisy Mae in between David and I and turned on another rousing episode of Little House on the Prairie.

Cue Tank and Miley with their ceaseless panting and passing of gas.

Lest any of you are confused, Tank and Miley are dogs.

It was a lovely night full of peace and pleasantries.

So, today, I have three children with fevers and one child who is feeling ever-so-spunky.

This is Little Dude’s usual stance.  If I ask him to do something, he plants his feet, makes his voice very deep and shouts:

“Yes, Mom!  Superman to pick up his dirty clothes!”

And off he goes to do anything but pick up his dirty clothes.

I had the children sit down and write out letters to their grandparents.  I know, I know.  Daughter-in-law of the year.  This may surprise you, but my boys do not yet write.  So I just wrote down what they said.

And, naturally, I must share what Little Dude said.

***

Dear Grandpa/Grandpa:

Little Dude refers to both Grandma and Grandpa as Grandpa/Grandpa.  I’m sure it doesn’t offend my ma-in-law in the least.

Thank you for the lovely dinner.  (Not sure?  He was supposed to thank them for his Valentine’s Card)

I go outside.  I play inside.  GO TO SLEEP! says Grandpa.

He stayed the night with grandpa/grandpa a long time ago and I know he had trouble “obeying” and sleeping, so maybe that is his one memory?  Not sure.

I like pizza.  I go to Lisa’s (his aunt) and play in the couch.

I love you.

***

Later on today, he did his Superman pose and came and informed me of a disaster.

“Mom!  Come quick!  Quick!  Emergency!  The trampoline flew on the garage!”

And off he flew to save the day.  I, of course, did not believe him, because, hello, he thinks he is Superman, but I did come and look, just for the sake of humoring him.

And wouldn’t you know it, he was telling the truth.

Huh.

Maybe he is Superman after all?

And, no.  I did not put it back.  I might be all WOMAN now and all, but my husband is all that is MAN and God gave him those muscles for a reason.

I will, however, throw in an offer to help, just for good measure.

***

Little Dude is “napping” right now. And I use the phrase “napping” quite loosely. Little Dude stopped sleeping during naptimes a couple of months ago, but I still make him sit in his room and BE QUIET.  You can imagine my surprise when I heard some doors opening and closing downstairs only a moment ago.

So, I went to check on my naughty Superman and found the door to the bathroom closed.  And locked.

I knocked.

LD (in his most chipper, sing-song voice):  Who is it?

Me:  Mom.  You are not allowed to lock the door.

LD:  But I am POOOOPing, Mom!  POOOOPing!

Me:  Unlock the door.

LD:  O-Tay.

Me:  Are you finished?

LD:  Nope.

Me:  Hurry up.

LD:  I AM!

So I went back upstairs to drink my boring coffee without creamer, because, OH!, did I tell you I really did give up the creamer?!  It’s true and my life is bleak as a result of it.

Reluctantly, I decided it was time to deal with the boy again.

And wouldn’t you know it, the bathroom door was locked.  So I knock.

LD (in his most chipper, sing-song voice):  Who is it?

Me:  Mom.

LD (in his most worried voice to himself):  UhOh.  Mom.

LD (in his most chipper, sing-song voice): Yes, Mom?

Me:  Open the door.

LD:  O-Tay.

And luckily, we had moved past the actual elimination process and had entered the wiping portion of the event.  Which, oddly enough, takes just as long for him to accomplish.

And now he is back in bed.  Where he is doing anything but sleeping.

Happy Wednesday!