The Beast had his preschool Easter party yesterday. I wasn’t able to make it for the egg hunt but I made it in time for the cupcake portion of the party.
The Beast woke up with a runny nose, but that’s par for the course around here in the spring. Every child in his class has a runny nose. And even if their children are actually sick and feverish, many parents still send them to school.
I am not one of those parents. I truly believed The Beast just had your run-of-the-mill cold, so I sent him to school with a runny nose and when I came to pick him up, his teacher told me that he had been coughing all day.
His teacher also informed me that since he was so full of phlegm, she decided not to give him his milk at lunchtime.
Now, I personally have always believed that the milk-makes-you-phlegmy idea was just an old wive’s tale because I drink milk all the time when I have a cold and I have yet to drink it and think to myself, “I do believe this milk is making me more mucousy.”
But, whatever. She didn’t give him his milk. No biggy.
I entered the classroom and I saw that The Beast had been separated from the rest of the class and was sitting alone at a table in the corner. His teacher said that since The Beast refused to sneeze into his sleeve and instead chose to spew spittle in a 10-foot radius, he had to be seated alone.
I told his teacher that at home we just let our sneezes rip and don’t like messing up our sleeves, but I do not think she realized I was kidding.
The Beast didn’t see that I had arrived and I watched him sit on the edge of his seat in anticipation as he saw all of his friends at the big table get their cupcakes and juice. He waited so sweetly and patiently, yet excitedly, that I wanted to squeeze him.
And then I wanted to cry for him. All of his little friends were sitting together and enjoying their cupcakes and juice but The Beast was all alone. So I went and sat with him. Then he started coughing like a three-pack-a-day-for-60-years smoker who used to remove asbestos tiles for a living and we decided to leave.
I apologized to his teacher for sending him to school with what sounded like tuberculosis and we left.
In the car on the way home he was really quiet. I thought it was because he was tired. It was actually because he was eating all of the chocolate bunnies out of the Easter basket sitting on his lap.
You see the brown lower teeth?
That’s not poor dental hygiene. That’s dead chocolate bunnies.