Before today the meanest thing I'd ever done to a child was to call my students on a snow day to assign them homework. Mean, right? It seemed a desecration of something holy worse than the time I swore in Mass when I got a splinter in the back of my leg from an old pew while surrounded by 11 year old girls whom I was supposed to be supervising as their homeroom teacher. The holy spirit was not with me that day, nor was it with me as I called and, God help me, WOKE UP students to tell them to do their homework. It was boss-mandated, or else I never would have done it, and I still feel dirty for having broken the sanctity of the sacred snow day at an administrative behest. Never again.
Today was worse, though. Far worse. I interrupted this peaceful nap, clearly a deep and satisfying late morning sleep. I saw a dreaming baby and ripped her from her tranquil slumber.
Fleece jammies? Check. Kitty? Check. Foul-smellling, chewed-on burp rag? Check.
Why would I do this to my beloved child, you ask? Here's the meanie kicker. I woke her up from this perfect rest to take her to the pediatrician to get her flu boosters. That's right, I awakened this sleeping angel so that she could get shots.
And that, my friends, is why I'll be riding an eternal rotisserie in Hell. See you there!
Look at this way: Wake her from a sleep, but ultimately short slumber OR risk allowing her to get an illness that will put her to sleep forever!
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