sick

I loved sick days when I was growing up. I loved them so much I can remember trying to fake a sick day, or two. I took the good ol' mercury thermometer and lit a match and placed the burning flame to the bulbous part, and man how quickly that silver streak shot up. I knew for sure my mom would believe me now...

...until the glass exploded.

Then I had to quickly pick up the cool mercury that was spilling in movable pools all over the wooden floor before my mom came back into the room. And I know for a fact I did not wash my hands after that. Sometimes my sickness would be real, and sometimes not, but my mom would always let me stay home. Always. I love you mom.
Lana has become my "love those sick days" child. She's sunny and happy when she wakes up two hours later than required and is still clad in her pj's, hair still crazy and not even a faint vapor of toothpaste hovering over her mouth. She knows her prayers have been answered. Even if she is sick for real. She's had a fever and sore throat for a while. Her fever is gone, but that nose is d-i-s-g-u-s-t-i-n-g!
I think she knows she can do anything, watch any movie, ask for food on the couch and suck her thumb all day long. And when you can take a bubble bath all alone, for as long as you like, it's hard not to go to bed wishing-praying for sick days.