Today, our little Tierra came into our bedroom and crawled between us in the dark. “Mommy, Daddy, wake up,” she said, voice all sweet and innocent. We turned to find her shaking. Both of us shot up. Shag turned on the light and checked her forehead; I pulled out the thermometer. She announced. “I threw up. I think I have a bug.”
We both jumped to action. Ginger Ale. Crackers. Meds. Cold Towel. We were hopping like beans. Both of us discussed who should take off work while Shag rocked her in his arms. And in the middle of all of this, it comes to me that Tierra is eight years old and extremely tall. LOL. Why is he still rocking her like when she was five? Never mind, I can’t bring up how he spoils her at this moment. We need to get her better.
Long story short. There is a bug running around rampant and it’s loose in our hose. Our little princess has it. And the normal running order is Shag, me and finally Jordan.
Meanwhile, after hearing that she has a bug, Jordan covers his face like Michael Jackson and bolts out of the house for the bus ten minutes early. I shake my head. That’s the only time I can ever get that boy out of the house without pushing him.
Such is the life of Mommy.