I have, in one house, a poorly Smudgelet and, in another house, a poorly dad.
I was summoned to remove my son from school as he had inconsiderately thrown up on the carpet and in the waste paper bin and was a rather interesting shade of green. I suggested they might like to keep him, but they were rather insistant that I bring him home. He is now bright as a button and perpetually bobbing out of his room to a) stick his nose into what’s going on in the outside world and b) declare that he’s “better now, and not the slightest bit sleepy”. Little malingerer. I am motherly and sympathetic, of course and have barricaded him in his room. I don’t want him poorly tomorrow!
On the other hand, Dad, who has every reason to be poorly, is definitely malingering. He was “in too much pain and too unwell” to go to the Day Centre today… until I’d rung them and cancelled. Then there was a miracle recovery and he too is bright as a button. My poor brother is trying valiently to lay new hall flooring for Dad but every so often appears at my front door, tearing his hair (what’s left of it) out because Dad’s gone into the toilet AGAIN – a 20 minute minimum stay, with attendance by whoever is caring for him – or because he’s asleep and my brother daren’t make any noise. AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! Goodness knows what will happen next week when he’s supposed to be going in to give us a week’s respite. He’s determined not to go.
Still, tomorrow we escape for the day……. as long as we’re all well enough!