Autopilot

Sara stayed home from school today with Steve.  He was able to work from home while she took it easy, working to recover from her first case of strep throat.  Her temperature was back to normal and the rash had subsided by the time she woke up this morning, thank goodness.  When I got home, I asked her, "Sara, what did you do today?"  She said, "I watched cartoons with Daddy."  You can imagine her reaction tonight when we asked if she is ready to go back to school tomorrow: "No, stay home with Daddy!"

On my way home from work this evening, even though I knew Sara was already at home with Steve, I nearly turned into her school to pick her up.  I had my blinker on, and I had slowed down for the right-hand turn when it dawned on me that I didn't need to make the stop.  It's amazing how routine can train our brains to do things our bodies don't even realize they are doing.  Do you ever do that, where you get somewhere, and while you know logically how you got there, you don't remember stopping, going, turning, etc.?  Autopilot.

This evening since Sara was feeling a little better, I asked her to help me clean the bathrooms.  She got the toilets since that job didn't involve spraying anything that would end up all over the walls and floor.  Plus, the potty is a pretty big part of her life right now.  I told her to scrub and scrub until the water turned blue and had lots of bubbles in it.  She took her job very seriously, even yelling into the toilets, "Go away poop!"  Anyway, when the bathrooms were clean and it was time to wrap up the job, I thanked Sara for her help and told her we were all done.  Oh. My. Word.  You cannot even begin to imagine the tears that ensued.  Sara was devastated that she had to be done cleaning the toilets.  I had no idea the activity would bring her such joy.  I can only hope she feels so strongly about cleaning the toilets when she's a teenager.  Yeah, right.