Two days ago I posted about going to Chuck E. Cheese's House of Contagion. Today, G is sick. Coincidence? I THINK NOT.
Anyway, here we are, dealing with a fever, sore throat and hacking cough. I'm torn between feeling sorry for G because she's ill, and feeling stressed and guilty because I'm missing work at an incredibly busy time. G, for her part, is worried that she'll miss her class's Valentine party and won't be able to see the Spiderwick movie, which she's been preparing for by reading the books over and over. I promised I'd take her this weekend if we can't go on opening night, but when you're nine, waiting two days to do something you really want to do feels like a disaster of epic proportions. I just hope I don't come down with Chuck E. Plague as soon as she gets better, because that would really be the cherry on top of this cake of crap.