So, turns out I caught Rojo's "tiredness." He came down with it Friday, and it hit me on Saturday. We spent the weekend mutually miserable. He kept telling me on Sunday, "I am 68% percent better. I will be 100% better tomorrow. I will go to school tomorrow." Since he hasn't missed a day of school in years, I believed him.
Monday morning came and I looked through my watery eyes and croaked through my up-all-night coughing voice, "How are you feeling?" I could tell by the look in his eyes he wasn't his promised 100%, but I also thought his desire to go to school would be so strong he'd tell me he was fine.
Sure enough, "Fine," is what he said.
"Do you want to stay home with me one more day?" I asked, again, believing he'd never go for it.
"Yea," he said. "I'm still pretty 'tired.'"
"Okay, I will call the school and let them know you won't be here." Relief flooded his face.
We then spent the day in self-imposed quarantine, trying to contain our constant sneezing, coughing, blowing, to two rooms of the house - him in the TV room, me in my room just down the hall so as to minimize the chance of Woohoo and STM catching whatever it is we have. (And if you think I was going to spend the day in the TV room with him watching "Zach and Cody" you've got another think coming.)
I'd offered over the weekend to go get frozen yogurt and bring it to him, but he'd declined. On Monday he e-mailed me from his iPad in his room, to my computer in mine. "Did you want to get frozen yogurt today? Two bowls. Regular flavors. Graham cracker, Oreo and 2 gummy worms on top." Of course I was jumping up and down to leave the warmth of my house, bundle up and face the elements, drive to get yogurt looking and feeling like you-know-what.
When I got home with the yogurt he came downstairs and sat at the breakfast bar to eat it. He grinned from ear-to-ear, and at one point started to laugh. "What's so funny?" I asked.
"Heaven!" he said pointing skyward, as if that was the most logical answer in the whole entire world.
And who am I to disagree?