Her sick day consists of:
*laying around saying, "I feel cruddy," for 3 hours.
*play with dad, who gets home about when she gets up from her nap, thank you very much daylight savings time...
Yesterday she had him drag out blocks and the marble run. No ordinary marble run, this one makes towers that parking garage people study for maximum storage capacity ...
bear: Okay, Rio. Dinner's ready. Let's clean up.
rio: [terrific snort] Uh, you do it.
bear: Hey buddy. We all clean up.
rio: I don't clean up. You can do it allllll by yourrrrselllllf.
bear: Okay, I'll do the blocks and you can clean up the marbles.
rio: C'mon Daddy. I'm really disappointed in you. [and walks out of the playroom]
In my defense, I never ever say that to her. Ever. I don't know where she picks this shit up, but it's like she picks up messages from airwaves and saves the shticky bits for mom and dad. Oh, the perks of this job.