An Open Letter to My Eight-Year-Old Following His Harrowing Battle with Norovirus Early on a School Day

My Dear Third Grader,

I am terribly sorry you got sick at school this morning. I should have believed you when you said you were not feeling well, even if this was your tenth time saying that this month alone. I should have sensed that today would be the day when you would arrive at your classroom, take three steps in, and promptly throw up the entire contents of your stomach. This one is on me.

Yes, I understand it took me thirty minutes to get to your school. I apologize. I had to wrap up a few things so I could continue to work from home. Yes, it is still a workday for me. I’m very sorry. But once we get home, we can get you comfortable so you can relax and take a nap. Don’t tell your brothers, but you can have as much screentime as you would like. No, I don’t want to hear about the contents of your vomit, but thank you. If you want to use your Switch today, that’s fine. We can get you a nice set-up so you can drink some Pedialyte and play Minecraft—wow, an entire carrot? Did you not chew your dinner at all last night?—Sorry. Yes, you can hang out in the basement with me. We’ll dim the lights so you can rest some, too.

You might think you’re not tired, but it’s best if you try to nap today. Your nurse told me you were pretty lethar—okay, that was a really cool dance move. I’ve never seen you do that one. What was I saying? Right. When your body is sick, it needs lots of rest time so you can recover quickly. I know it sounds boring, but honestly, you are going to miss these naps when you’re my age and—wow, yes, that was amazing. I had no idea you could somersault.

I know you are hungry, but I’m not entirely sure a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich is the best thing for your stomach. We also don’t have any of the ingredients because you have never asked for a breakfast sandwich once in your entire life. I think we should make you some plain toast and see how that sits. Let me pop it in the toaster real quick, and I can type out this email while we wait. You can do the K-Pop Demon Hunters sing-along if you would like, but I need to get this done. Me? I think I’m more of a Zoey personally, but I wish I were a Rumi. Your grandma is definitely like Celine, but we’re not going into all of that right now. You can ask about it again in ten years. Fine, I’ll add a reminder to the 2036 calendar.

Hold on, I really have to finish this sentence. Sorry, you can’t type it. No offense, but I do not want you to touch anything that regularly comes this close to my face. Yeah, that was your toast finishing. I can grab it real quick. I know Bingo eats hers with cheese and jam, but Bingo is not currently battling a stomach virus, and more importantly, Bingo is a cartoon dog. I know that Pedialyte tastes good, but you need to slow down, okay?

I’m going to need you to sit down for a second while I boot up my computer. I know you have a lot of energy, but I still have a few more hours of work I need to put in. If you can’t eat any more toast right now, it’s fine. No, please don’t throw it to the dogs. I don’t know much about the potential for human-to-dog germ transfer, but I can’t imagine it’s good, and, frankly, our dog is so old that it might just push him over the edge. You’re right, I shouldn’t joke like that. No, I don’t know exactly how old eleven and a half human years are in dog years. I can Google it, but then, I really need to get going on this. No, you can’t use my work computer to play Cool Math Games. I’m sure they are educational, but I need to actually work. You’ve asked me every day this week to play Minecraft. Why don’t you want to play that now?

Please stop doing spin kicks. Yes, they are neat. In fact, those are the neatest spin kicks I have ever seen an 8-year-old do, but I don’t think you should be doing them when you have just downed that much artificial coloring. I’m sure you think you are feeling better, but right now we’re going to relax and take it easy. I really need to finish this up. You do? Okay, run to the toilet now. How can you not run? You’ve been doing it non-stop since we got…

It’s okay. Go lie back down, and I’ll clean this up. Let me just email my boss real quick and tell her she can expect it tomorrow.

Love you, too, buddy.

— Mom