Bust-ed.

Yes. We do have locks on our bathroom doors....but that is not how I was raised. Not blaming, just saying.

Dawson stayed home sick this morning. He woke up with a fever, cough, stomach ache, and lethargy; and I bet you can guess which symptom is my favorite. I dosed him with some generic Tylenol, and by the time I was getting out of the shower, he had rediscovered enough strength to move himself off the couch and onto the floor in my bathroom. He was feeling a little better, and certainly well enough to give me the low down on what happened in the short 45 minutes I was in the shower.

He barely made it through the story of Emma and the mayonnaise on the floor, when he stopped mid sentence; sat up, and said, "Where did you get that tattoo?"

He was of course, referencing the Summit County Sheriff Badge tattoo, carefully applied to my left cleavage.

"Dylan gave it to me after he got his flu shot."

That is not entirely the truth. Although Dylan eventually handed over the tattoo, I had to bribe him with a mini-pack of Sour Patch Kids, an ice cream cone at McDonald's, and the threat of a second dose of flu vaccine.

"Well, why did you put it.....there?"

I thought about telling him the truth; that I was planning on arresting his father after the kids went to bed, but decided that might generate another homework assignment that I would again, have to explain at Parent Teacher Conference.

I tried the next best thing, distraction. I threw on some clothes and told him about these sweet wound tattoos that I had found in the junk cupboard the other day. Since we had an appointment to see his pediatrician, we decided it would be funny to have her check out his "rash" while we were there. He picked out some nasty green, maggot and pus infected wounds, and we adhered them to his belly. He was so excited about making the doctor scream, he forgot all about my tatts. Perfect.



Kathy, his pediatrician, did not disappoint us. She made a big deal over his "rash" and laughed at our prank. She then informed us that the strep was negative and she was certain that Daws has swine flu. Holla.

On our way home from Park City, the Tylenol started to wear off. We barely made it home before the tears started. He was feeling totally miserable, so I offered to snuggle him on the couch, and watch a movie, or Wii, or whatever he wanted. He decided to go up to his own bed and take a nap,which means he must be feeling crappy, since he has been anti-nap for several years now. Poor little buddy, I hope he gets feeling better soon, and I think if I scrub my tatt off tomorrow, I can blame the memory on his feverish delirium.