Ok, yesterday I didn't even have to give him the benefit of the doubt. The Boy came downstairs dressed for school, but he looked like hell - big, black bags under his eyes, pale.... When I touched the back of his neck, it was obvious he was running a temperature and he said his limbs ached.
No questions - he was ill. So I packed him off back to bed, where he stayed without murmur all day. He was even worse by the evening - bad headache, sore throat, still aching. I'd have suspected swine flu, if he hadn't already had it in the summer.
I hate it when the kids are ill. If they're really bad then you worry; if they're ill enough to be home but not so much that they need constant care then you're aware of all the things you should be doing instead.
The Princess was beside herself last night. "I haven't seen The Boy since last night," she fretted. "I hope he gets better soon. I actually miss him."
"Ah, it's nice that you're concerned about your brother," I said to her. "I'm sure he'll be pleased to know you're thinking about him."
She looked at me like I was an idiot.
"No, Mummy," she explained patiently. "I don't mind him being ill and in bed because I get to watch the television I want. But Hannah Montana has finished now and I'm bored. If he was down here, I could annoy him by teasing him about girls or beat him up."
Nothing like sibling love, is there?
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