MoonPie had a fever this morning, but by noon, had rebounded and was asking to play Barbies. When she had first mentioned that she was feeling bad, she kept saying her stomach “hurt”. Hurt, HOW? Does it feel queasy, crampy, how does it hurt? No answer. As I lay on the bed a few hours later, begging JD to bring me some medicine, he kept asking, “For what? Are you nauseous, what are the symptoms?” I just groaned and said, IT HURTS. There are no other words.
When the MoonPie announced last week that two students had missed school because one had “spike fever” and the other “felt like he was going to throw up”, I just shrugged and thought, too bad they missed the Popsicles. Now I’m wondering why the disease-ridden carriers weren’t driven to the city gates, and all of their clothing and belongings burned.
Harsh? Maybe, but I just puked on my own foot.