Monday, January 4, 2010

Sick Day, Dad Style

Not long ago, the school clinic assistant called my cell phone while I sat in my office, shuffling papers or completing some other equally important task. I wasn't surprised, as I'd been nursing Lily through an ear infection for a few days, which had culminated in a fun-filled holiday weekend visit to the urgent care center.

Evidently the antibiotics and eardrops we had procured hadn't quite kicked in yet, and she was in the clinic complaining that her ear hurt. The nurse requested that someone appear with pain reliever, posthaste. You can't just sign a note giving the school permission to give your kid drugs when it seems like it might be necessary, you have to bring the stuff to school and personally hand it to your child. I am in complete agreement with this rule, by the way, as I would rather not have some random clinic assistant dosing up my child without my knowledge. It is, however, rather inconvenient when there are important papers to shuffle at one's job.

Since I was buried under all the paper shuffling, my lovely husband was going to have to make the trip to school. I knew that this was going to create a hardship for him, as I had spoken to him less than 30 minutes before the school called, and he had been on his way to play golf. I dialed his cell and explained the dilemma. While somewhat put out, since he'd been this close to teeing off, he agreed to make the trip and dispense the stuff as requested.

By the time I called him back to check in, about an hour later, he had gone to the school and was already back on the golf course. When I inquired on how things went at the clinic, he hesitated. Suddenly, I heard what sounded like Lily's voice in the background.

"Is that Lily?" I asked.

"Yeah, the school made me take her with me because her temperature was 99.2 when I got to the clinic," he answered.

"You have our sick child out playing golf?"

"No, she's just riding on the golf cart."

"So, you have our child, who was sent home sick from school, riding along on the cart while you play golf?"

"What? I gave her some Motrin."

I'm sure this would have seemed like a completely rational line of thinking if I also had a Y chromosome, right?


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