I stayed home from work on Tuesday.
While this may seem like the beginnings of a tell-all confessional, just be glad that it’s not. I’ve been fighting a stomach bug for the past couple of days, and it’s not the variety of stomach bug that you might be thinking.
And that’s all I’m going to say about that.
One of the benefits of staying home from work on Tuesdays is not having to be in Manhattan in enough time to find a free (i.e., on the street) parking place with plenty of time left to walk up to my building and get to class by 8:05. Typically, that involves leaving my house right about the time that the kids stumble bleary-eyed out of their rooms.
Tuesday, then, was different. Since I had been up half the night already, I was more than happy to help Hyrum get dressed while Michelle was doing Chloe’s hair.
He’s been struggling recently with doing his own pants. He conquered the hook-and-clasp type pretty handily, but those darn snaps have proven just a bit too tough for him. That all changed on Tuesday. On Tuesday, as I was walking over to him, offering to snap his pants and already reaching out to finish the job, he took a step back and fixed a mighty eyeball on that snap. He maneuvered the snaps into position, flexed his muscles, and pop.
His eyes came straight up to mine, bright and victorious. I started in on the praise, laying it on as thickly and sincerely as I could for what was a victory a long time in the making. I raised my hand to give him a high five, his most favored celebration, and he reared back, ready to once again attempt to pound my hand into something resembling a fine cut of tender steak.
Just before releasing the cocked hammer, he looks me in the eyes and says, with the air of someone who noticed the hand buzzer right before shaking someone’s hand,
Hey, you’ve got sickies!
His mother has trained him well.