I don’t really have to rehash my love/hate affair with field trips, but I’ve gone on a bunch of field trips I didn’t want to go on.
Today was payback. Today Jack’s class was going on a field trip to the Great Harvest Bread Company. And I was excited.
I had a shopping list and everything: pumpkin chocolate chip muffins, cinnamon swirl bread, spinach provolone bread.
But Jack wasn’t feeling happy. I thought he was tired, so I was going to keep him home from his afternoon class, but we were going to the bread store. But on the way to drop Sam off at school, Jack made some very sad faces and started wimpering. So I made the decision to scrap the field trip too. Partly because if he was going to throw up, I didn’t want it to be in the kitchen of a food establishment.
Quinn was disappointed when I told him we were going home instead of to the bread store. “No! Not home! The bread place!” he cried over and over. Mr. Stomach speaks.
I hear you, Littlest Man, I hear you. I’m sad too. I could almost taste that cinnamon bread.
When we got home, Jack went inside while I collected his blanket from the car. At first I couldn’t find him. And then I saw him in the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet. Poor guy. He didn’t really have to throw up so I put him on the couch.
He responded by saying, “I’ll sadly sleep here.” (Oh, my God, the sad.) He also claimed that a bag of ice would make him feel better, and who am I to argue?
And my lovely friend H brought Jack (and by “Jack,” I mean “me”) a loaf of bread from the field trip. Yay me!
Later that afternoon before his assertion that “Cheetos make me better,” Jack and I had a lovely exchange:
Jack: “I am blue.”
Me: “Because you’re sad?”
Jack: “Yes. I need a hand.”
Me: “Do you need a hug?”
Jack: “No, just a hand.”
So I moved over to him and held his hand. And he put on his “this is the smile I use to show people I’m happy” smile.
I thought he was feeling better in the afternoon before I realized that in fact he was just responding to the medicine I’d given him.
So tomorrow, my morning off with no kids, I’ll have Mr. Sicky Sickerson.
But it’s okay. Because we’ll have lots of time to cuddle.