As I lay in bed last night, I began to mentally make a list of all the things I wanted to get done today while my boys were in school. In the darkness, I planned out my agenda, tight and full and incredibly productive.
And then I heard the oldest, deep in sleep, begin to cough wetly. And I knew. So I began to edit the list, erasing this, moving that. I was a brilliant negotiator with myself. If I get this done, I could wait on that. If I can run by here, I don't need to go by there until next week.
As the oldest continued to cough periodically through the night, I would wake up and slash at my mental list, getting it all the way down to bare bones, the essentials only, until finally this morning I crumpled it up and threw it away.
The oldest will stay home today. He will wear his monster slippers all day, and he will lay on the sofa under a blanket all day, and he will read books and nap and drink Ovaltine all day.
As for me, I will not go to the Post Office run by the bank hit the grocery drop off these shirts at the drycleaner take these clothes to Goodwill make copies of these papers return the library books try to meet with this person swing by the Scout store go sign that release today.
I will stay home and make Ovaltine. Plump pillows. Feel foreheads. Fuss over the child who's growing up too fast. And love every minute of it.