At ten to noon, I get a phone call at the office from OmegaDad. OmegaDotter's teacher had called him, saying OD didn't feel well and was running a low fever.
The dotter was sick yesterday, in that horrid, cranky, whiny way that kids who are somewhat sick are, as compared to the deep, quiet misery of kids who are really sick. We stayed home yesterday. This morning, though, no fever, no cranky whinies, pretty much normal kiddo, so I took her in.
So I pack it in and head off to preschool--no big surprise that her fever is back.
When I arrive there's the dotter sitting at the table, bouncing and smiling. My mommy radar goes off. Miss M., her teacher, says in a dubious voice, "Well, she was sick yesterday, and she hasn't been feeling good, and she does have a low fever..."
How low is low? 99-something. Hmmm.
On the way home, she's smiling and singing and dancing and giggling and happy.
Let me tell you, this child is not sick.
Half of me is laughing, the other half is going, "Grrrr." I have made it quite clear that this is not to happen again (you can tell she knows I know she isn't sick). I lectured her about what Mean Mommies do in this situation, about how next time this happens, she will be put to bed pronto, since she's so sick. I made her take ibuprofen (ewww!).
OmegaDad, like me, was halfway laughing, halfway not, when I called him to tell him we had all been played. "That little shit!" were his exact words.
That little shit, indeed.
Lest anyone take the "little shit" to heart and decide I'm a Bad Mother, I would like to include a disclaimer: OmegaDotter is our joy and our heart, and "little shit" is meant in affectionately joshing tones. And, if anyone wonders why on earth I'm bothering to include this little disclaimer, just head on over to AmFam to get an idea of the humorless and self-righteous folk who populate the world. (Further disclaimer: AmFam is not humorless and self-righteous.)