Today, I am home and I awake to a quiet house this Saturday. I am flooded with memories of my son performing Shell Silverstein’s “Sick” poem on stage with his bathrobe and bugs bunny stuffed animal.
He was in 2nd grade. The poem is rather long but he was determined to recite it at the talent show.
|by Shel Silverstein
"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . .Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
My daughter has been fighting “sick” all week long, two days home, a visit to the doctor. Each day she has been complaining of a new ache and then last night rebounded for ice skating and a sleepover. I think knowing that it was Saturday made her feel more playful. Part of me wanted to say, No, you are still sick, but then the other part of me knows that Saturdays should be all about playing and feeling fine. I love this painting for the happy cheery colors. Saturdays do somehow provide a sort of miraculous recovery.
Have a playful Saturday.