I didn't feel so hot when I got up this morning. I slept in, like, 15 extra minutes. (Not 15 extra minutes... just like 15 extra minutes). I was a tad dizzy, and my head felt stuffy. I dismissed it as sleepiness, and stumbled into the bathroom, where I stared in the mirror for 2 solid minutes, wondering where I was and why my toothbrush was in my hand.
Then I remembered.
Oh yeah. I'm awake. It's Monday. I have to leave for babysitting in 1 minute. Brush teeth. Must brush teeth.
The zest of fluoride was enough to rouse me to consciousness to the point that I could drive. With a muffin in my mouth, bag in one hand, keys in the other, I trudged off to the car. My mind was still somewhere in my dream... I think it involved a stone dungeon... and dreams about dreams.....
Then I got to Clarke and Caro's house. Caro let me in, and gave me the news.
"Sophie's sick. It's not as bad as it was yesterday, and she doesn't have a fever anymore, but she's still really congested."
Aha. Sophie is sick. Good thing I'm not sick! But wait... my head is still stuffy, and I'm not even asleep anymore.
Oh darn.
Well, not much to do about it. Time to start babysitting.
You know, you'd think, with a head as stuffed up as she has, Sophie wouldn't be attracted to obnoxious noises. She should detest them, and just want to sleep, right?
Nope. That's the thing about little kids. They're immune to noise headaches. I'd only been there about 30 seconds when the music started. It was emanating from this toy steering wheel thing that makes noise when you turn the key, croaks when you pull a lever, and honks when you push the button. But, right next to the honking button are these two arrows. When you press those, it plays classical music! Only, this is the kind of classical music you would only hear if Sesame Street got a commission to manufacture educational toys for hell. To give you an idea, Ode to Joy is played on what sounds like a mixture of a synthesizer and a kazoo, mixed with honking sounds and quacking. Yes, quacking. Like a duck. They got a DUCK to accompany Beethoven... who is now pounding on his coffin, screaming to be let out so he can raise a zombie army to level Toys R Us to the ground.
Worst of all is a piece so famous that I do not know its name. It is accompanied by cats. "Meow! Meow! DoodoodoodooDOOOdoodoo. Meow! Meow! Doo doodoodoo doo doo Meow doo! Meow! Meow!"
"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"
It was a sweet relief the moment she dropped the steering wheel in favor of her dinosaur book. She brought it over to me and plopped it on my lap. Gratefully, I read it to her... well... half read, half quoted from memory. It's definitely a favorite ("Here comes Zoomer rocketing past/Whatever she does she does it fast/She's a nifty little thing with energy galore/She's a jazzy orange dinosaur!") and for the bazillionth time, I put on my various dinosaur voices to chronicle the lives of Zoomer, Dozy, Hey-Ho-Howdy, Sob, Snort, Tremble, and Smooch. So much better than Beethoven-Meets-Donald Duck!
Shortly after she got bored with Dinosaurs-on-the-Go, it was time to check her temperature. Insert thermometer in armpit (and thank heavens it's not rectal!) and wait for results. 98.2? Just about right, though a little on the cool side. Since my head was still clogged, I decided to check my own. I couldn't get it higher than 97.2! Well, I don't have a fever, but apparently I'm freezing! What's wrong with my body? What could possibly be happening?!
Clearly, I'm a vampire.
After confirming that her temperature was at a decent degree, I filled up a bottle with apple juice, to make sure she stayed hydrated. This she downed nearly half of with a passionate fervor.
Then came the sneeze.
Babies can't blow their noses. I'd been wiping up the slimy river that was flowing out of her nostrils, but I hadn't anticipated what was soon to be coming.
I saw the sneeze building. It was the "Ah... ah...." part of "Ah... ah.... CHOO!" I reached for the tissue...
"CHOO!"
The blast was incredible. The shockwave alone sent me flying into the fireplace and part way up the chimney. The boogers completely encased my body. So, I was stuck there, in the chimney, locked in a shell of snot. Luckily Sophie wanted her dinosaur book read and climbed up after me, washing the boogers away with a waterfall of drool.
I'm thinking it's time for a trip to Washington DC.
"Mr. President," I will say, holding Sophie in front of me. "I would like to offer my niece as the next generation of anti-terrorism defense. Her greatest weapon - the snot bomb. No terrorist will dare face off to that."
And that is why I decided I was too sick for my US history class.
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