Sick Day Declared!

untitledMy son woke up with a sore throat, it had been coming on for a few days but today was full on cold. After playing rock, paper, scissors with my wife (best two out of three), it turned out to be my day to stay home from work and take care of him. I was the winner, not the loser of course, cause I love sick days, it is the next best thing to playing hooky!!!

Go back, go waaaayyyyy back, to when you were in elementary school, was there anything better than a sick day? Ok maybe a snow day, (remember I’m writing from Canada) but besides that, nothing.

What I remember most about sick days at home was lunch time. It always involved chicken noodle soup. I know some of you are saying “noooo it was tomato soup!”, but not for this guy, it was always chicken noodle. Sesame street would come on at 11pm, followed by the Flintstones at noon. Once this part of the Sick Day ritual was done it was nap time, the dreaded nap, there was no getting out of it. It was the price to pay for staying home from school. At our house you did not have to go to your bed for a nap, you could nap on the living room sofa. The sun would shine in the living room window at that time of day, warming me under the blanket my mother had covered me with. I could fight it all I wanted, sooner or later I would fall asleep. By the time I woke up by brother would be home from school, supper would be on the stove and the sick day was over.

The memory of staying home from school on sick days fill me with such warmth. They were days of peace and security, days of being looked after, no worries or cares. Your only goal, to feel better. They remind me of orange juice, aspirin and people I loved who are no longer with me.

So this morning when my son woke up with rosie cheeks and a sore throat, it was declared a sick day. We are going to watch tv, play video games, and eat chicken noodle soup. Maybe we will take a walk, or maybe we will nap together on the sofa. It doesn’t matter what we do, as long as he remembers it. Someday, way down the line, when he has a child who comes to him with rosie cheeks and a sore throat, I want him to be able to remember this day and a father who loved him.


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