Fever

I've succumbed to whatever the kids had, and it's kicking my butt.

So, in lieu of a real post--one in which there are supposed to be complete sentences that lead one into the other and further a point or points--I'm going to give you some fevered ramblings. Actually, I'm going to ask you some fevered questions.

1. Is there an age at which a daughter should no longer sleep in bed with her father? A son with his mother? (We've been trying to segregate the sick and the non-sick here and it's made for some interesting bed arrangements.)

2. Is it being a helicopter parent when you call your daughter's teacher to get some clarity on an assignment sent home to your sick kid, even if said sick kid begs you not to? (Background: They were doing oral book reports. When Em's friend C brought over the last-minute instructions, she said that the teacher said if Em wasn't there the next day, then she wouldn't get a grade on the report at all. I KNEW that to be crap; C is a notorious drama queen. Em didn't want me to call because she thought it would sound like she didn't trust C. I insisted, saying it was because *I* don't trust C. The reality, when I talked to the teacher: They were taping the reports for back-to-school night, and the teacher said that if Em wasn't there, she wouldn't be on the video loop of the report. Still, I found that out against Em's protests. No matter what I said, she didn't want me intervening, but I went ahead and did it anyway. I think I just answered my question: I'm a chopper, all right.)

3. A rhetorical query: Baroy is running the LA Marathon tomorrow, despite the fact that he's got the cough that--in the rest of us--indicates a fever is coming. If he dies of a heart attack or dehydration during the marathon because he refuses to consider just not running it, would I be justified in killing him?

4. Damn, I feel like shit. No question about that.