Sick Kid

While the girls spent the morning at their co-op, Ian and I whiled away an hour or two reading and writing at Starbucks. I guess you could call it our new tradition, if doing something two weeks in a row counts as a tradition (it does in Ian's book). Sitting there in a shaft of tentative sunlight, sipping mint tea as the boy slurps up his milk and lemon cake, one can quite easily fool oneself into thinking one has this homeschooling thing quite under control, thank you very much.

Now he's burning with fever, a different incarnation of what his ceaselessly vomiting sister had one night last week. Poor child, he's a wan shadow of his feisty nighttime self. I would take his temperature, but the Attic People stole our new thermometer. Clearly, they have no shame.