I like a lot of things about my job, and for those who don't know, I teach PreK. However, it does have a few drawbacks, too. One of those is that I work in a germ factory. We went from some nice, really warm weather to really cold weather, and the germs seem to love that. So, as much as I tried to deny it through the end of last week and the weekend, eventually I had to face facts and admit that I've caught a cold. Often, if I can get a lot of rest in the first couple of days, it doesn't last too long and I can get over it rather quickly.
Morgan: Hey Mom! I missed you! How are you? What are you doing in here? Do you want to play bitey face? How about a wrestle?
Me: NO! Morgan, no! I'm sick, I'm trying to rest!
Mr. Taleteller: (shouted from the kitchen) Morgan! Come on!
Morgan: Dad needs me! I'll be right back!
I struggled to get up and out of bed before she could come back to pounce on me again. I made it as far as the hallway before she'd returned. Her enthusiasm hadn't dimmed any.
Morgan: I'm back! Did you miss me? Are you feeling better yet? Do you want to wrestle now?
Me: No! I'm tired! Just let me sit on the couch.
Morgan: Oh, okay! Let me escort you there to be sure nothing happens.
Me: It's five steps from here if I don't have to keep walking around you...
Morgan: Okay, I'll do a quick perimeter check before you start moving.
Morgan: Hey! Are you sure that food is safe? I better taste a bite in case it's been poisoned or something!
Me: Absolutely not! You do not need spaghetti sauce in your system and we all want to be able to sleep in the house tonight without being gassed to death!
Morgan: That could never happen! I'd never let anybody in with gas tanks!
Morgan: Intruder alert! Intruder alert! A poodle is walking down the sidewalk!
Me: Morgan! The are allowed access on the sidewalk! Get off me!
At this point, Morgan was standing on the couch, perched precariously over my legs as she watched out the window. It's not easy juggling a plate of pasta and fending off an overzealous Shepherd lass. Fortunately, something Mr. Taleteller did caught her attention and Morgan hurried off to see what he was doing in the kitchen. Cookie baking requires her diligent supervision, and fortunately it kept her occupied for a good half hour.
In that time, Bunny and I arranged ourselves carefully on the couch, hiding Morgan's favorite little foot launch pad and thwarting new attempts at supervision. The whole ordeal has taught me something. Morgan has the best of intentions, but often things don't go quite as she planned. While Greyhounds make the world's best nurses when you are sick, young German Shepherds should be kept out of the sick room!