| Reprieve | 1/30/2006 |
I think he's trying to earn more Run! Escape! time. (heh. I just love saying that instead of "runescape". Thanks for the intro to it)
Anyways, he took a small break, so he could eat half a fresh chewy baguette that I'd bought at Mollie Stone's today, and then went back to practicing The Wild Horseman, or whatever that Schumann piece is that he's working on. A few minutes later, he stopped abruptly, and came and sat down beside me.
"I'd say you just earned yourself 10 minutes of Run-Escape, Skip" I said, goodnaturedly, hoping to remind him that his game-time was tied in to his practice/homework time. He didn't scowl, like he would've if he'd been in a pouting mood. But he didn't grin, either.
He just looked pained.
"Mom, my stomach hurts like knives on the inside" he said. "I can't sit up, or stand straight."
Uh oh. I looked at the clock. 15 minutes before I need to be driving the carpool to Ragazzi. SO not good timing.
"You want to try some Tums?" I asked. Maybe it's just gas, eh? He took the Tums with good nature, and even feebly tried to engage me with talk about how he really likes the green ones best now. But he looked suddenly all washed out. Not "I'll fake a stomach illness, and get out of going to rehearsal", or "I'll look like death, and then she'll let me play on the computer all night while I 'recover'" sort of things. I'd recognize those, I think, having been a master of that in my own youth.
I sent him to the big green chair to curl up for a while, and he just languished there. He didn't even ask for the TV to be on. Nate did, though, and when I said "No, Skip's resting", I got no "hey! I'm getting better, I could watch TV" response.
He's now gone up to his room. Poor kid.
I phoned the other carpool folks. Couldn't reach one, and the other one said "OH! I meant to phone you. Matt's got a previous engagement with some sports play-off." So I wouldn't have had to drive him, anyways. But the other family... I just got their answering machine. I was worried.
And then, just now, I've remembered that last week they said that they'd drive their own son in, because he was getting some extra help from one of the conductors. Woot! I wouldn't have been driving him, either. So it's OK if Skip just lazes around and recuperates from whatever it is that's attacking his innards.
If I had to guess, I'd say it was the half-baguette. The thing was fresh, and chewy, and delicious, but WHO eats a whole loaf of bread, and walks away without any effects?
Truth be told, I'm pretty happy about things. I was sort of dreading going out tonight. I just want to stay home. My house is mostly clean, still, left-over from last night's big Gung Hai Fat Choy thingy. I'll have to write about that. It was an adventure. Oh, and I've got pictures.
The deep fryer was a huge hit, too. The prawn crackers were wonderful, and I've had such nicely-cooked crab rangoons. I'd say the investment was worth it.
Oh, and my one friend made this Cantonese boiled chicken thing with ginger and green onions...? I think I died and went to heaven. I could eat that every day.
I think I just might.
Hmm. Strange sounds coming from upstairs. If I had to guess, I'd say that Kelly is trying to be a nurse to Skip, who is wanting none of it, and Nate is serenading the sick one with a... um... slide whistle.
Time to intervene.
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