Short and Sweet (at least that's the plan)

Caroline is sick.

Legitimately sick.

They called at 8:36 this morning. . . fever of 100.3.  Mark took our thermometer and Tylenol with him when he went to retrieve her.  Of course, leaving her was also in our short-term plan if she was allright.

They took her temp again -- their thermometer.  Then they used ours -- pretty much the same read.  Mark did note that they thrust the probe further into her ear canal than he felt like he usually did. . . and that can make a 2 or 3 degree difference.

So, she came home.

I had a meeting. . .and a lunch date.  Lunch got cancelled.  Life will go on.

After my meeting, Mark and I swapped places and he went to work.  

Tonight, Edison and I headed to church.  He had band. I had choir.

According to our youth minister's wife, Edison ROCKED on the bass tonight.   (Her exact words)  I guess they even threw three new songs at him -- and he played them.  Score!

Caroline was in bed when I got home.  Mark said she was fairly compliant in the "going to sleep" portion of the evening.  She even took a 2-hour nap for me.  So, you've got to figure the girl is sick.

She's run a fever pretty consistently through the day.  I think it's the flu.

It's midnight -- she's up, after taking a dose of Tylenol.  She and Mark are watching the Baseball "thing" that's taken over late night sports channels.  World Baseball Classic. . .that's the name.  (whatever)  

What's fun is hearing her talk about Cuba's uniforms.  They have a "C" on their caps.  And, of cousre, "C is for Caroline."   (and also for cat....and also for cookie)

Every TV program can be a learning experience.  And with that said, I'm going to see if "Fraiser" can subliminally teach me something as I fall asleep.

Since I'm going to be home tomorrow -- my plan is to possibly get the scrapbooking stuff out and crank out a few more pages.  Or, I might make a few cards.  And, of course, the sewing machine is crying out to me as well.

So many choices. . . .and I did promise a little girl a tea party tomorrow.  So, we'll just have to see.  It reminds me of a poem I remember from when my cousins were small. . . I believe my Grandma stitched it on a sampler for Mary & Jeff's wall.  Or something like that.  The poem goes like this:

"Cleaning and scrubbing can wait 'til tomorrow

For babies grow up - we've learned to our sorrow

So quiet down cobwebs. . .dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep."

But, doing some research, I found that it's just a small segment of a larger poem by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton.  Here's the full text. . . . and having read it, I think we'll be having that tea party tomorrow.

Babies Don’t Keep
By Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,
Lullabye, rockaby, lullabye loo.
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo,
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo,
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs;
Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Yeah. . . those scrapbook pages can wait.