So yes, he officially has the chicken pox. I am not at work. I am wearing the coveted elastic-waisted pant. I tried to monopolize the Play-Doh play this morning. No, I'm not kidding.
See it was just Rhett's birthday and he got a Play-Doh set for making hamburgers, fries, etc. He wanted to play with it this morning and so I joined him in a little creativity. Is it wrong that I really like the smell of Play-Doh? Also, is it wrong if you are not good at taking turns with your three year old and may be just as excited as he is at the prospect of making Play-Doh french fries? I don't think so. Well, maybe it's okay to like the smell but in hindsight I probably could've let him make his fries before I finished mine. Also because of the crazy Type 'A'-ness of my being I had to make my fries out of the yellow Play-Doh and shuddered when he wanted to make brown fries.
Yes I'm aware I have issues.
Anyway, so far so good. He's got maybe six or seven pox at present and he's a little warm. Runny nose and cough and extra-cuddly. For those of you who are wondering just what my damage is in regards to him getting the chicken pox, it's really more about him than me. Yes I like having a valid reason to stay home from work but the younger these little people get the chicken pox, the less they suffer during.
That being said, I took a special delight in calling in and informing my supervisor I would not be in for likely the remainder of the week and really wasn't overly upset when Rhett got up at 6:10 a.m. Why? Well number one, he's not feeling well and number two, I didn't have to go to work. That never gets old.