Day Care

One side of a hypothetical conversation...

*dials phone*

"Hello, Sunshine Daycare? Yes. This is Lori Dexyz. I'd like to drop off our son, Tyoma, for a half day of care today."

"What? Cholera's going around? Hmmm. I'm pretty sure we've had that."

"Mmmmm-hmmm. He catches everything. So, what time can we drop him off?"

"Uh, well, I could put a guaze mask on him..."

"Yeah, he probably would pull it off... But that's okay. I'll just sanitize his hands before he comes home."

"So, 9:00?"

Heh. Motherhood a bit much for you, Lori dear?


So they didn't really have cholera at Sunshine, just a stomach bug. I kept the little guy home for three days, but ultimately he will get anything circulating around New Hampshire. Nose picking must be nature's great plan for a healthy, well-immunized adult.

Anyway, it was great to have a break, so I could write in obsessive little circles. Every sentence came out the same, and all my ideas were stale. Blah.

Despite my desire to be alone and write, picking T up from daycare was my highlight. I watched him run around the playground, circulating with peers in his odd but endearing way. Before we left, he said, "Just a minute!" and dashed off to speak to a pretty blonde girl on a slide.

"Lillian. Lilli-an! I wanted you to know that I am leaving now, so I am saying good-bye to you. Good-bye." He announced this with his best Carl Sagan voice, making me smile.

"That was my friend Lillian," he gasped to me. "You spell her name like 'Lilli' but with an extra 'a-n'" He added, almost out of breath from running.

As I hustled him off to the car, and he abruptly asked, "What do you look like when you die?" Goodness. I thus began a nerdy and slightly technical interchange about biological death, that kept us entertained on the drive home.