As I mentioned yesterday, our four year old is pretty sick. She’s contracted some super virus that’s causing a very high temperature and, according to her pediatrician, this virus is running rampant through the child population in our area.

We will ignore the fact that among my numerous friends with children between the ages of 2-8, my child is the only one that’s sick.

We will do this in favor of the idea that my co-pay is being well spent on a subject matter expert who relies on science and not being spent on the idea that there is perceived solace in numbers.

Anyway.  This morning, I attended N.’s preschool orientation alone, and left her and baby brother at home with my husband.  Because I don’t want to be known as the mom who doesn’t care about her kid’s orientation, nor do I want to be known as the mother of the child who got the entire class sick before school even started.

As an important side bar, I don’t know how it is in your home, but in my home, mommy is the food maker, nose/butt wiper, and bedtime monitor.

Daddy, on the other hand, is Mr. Funtime (!!).

Obviously, we cross over to the other side quite often, but for the most part that’s how it is.

Given how sick our daughter is, it’s been difficult for Tariq, i.e. Mr. Funtime (!!), to convey to N. that right now what she needs is rest.  Playing will come after rest which she needs to to do in order to get well.  It seems so simple.  And, yet, up until today, this concept has been beyond even her well honed four year old analytical skills.

Today, however, when I came home from the orientation, as Tariq was frantically getting ready for work (it was 11 a.m.), I noticed N. was lying peacefully on the couch.

Resting.

Impressive, dear husband, impressive, I thought.  But, how in the world did you finally get through to her?

I, then, casually glanced at the counter and found this:

Apparently, this was my husband’s response to my daughter when she begged him to play hide and seek with her.

Frustrated with trying to explain to her for the thousandth time to no measurable amount of success that her fever and illness required rest, he explained the best way he knew how.  With a graph.

I’ve been staring at this graph for twenty minutes and am still trying to figure out what it means.

But it worked because, as I’ve mentioned, she was on the couch. 

Resting.

This?  Is why she’s probably a genius and  he gets paid the big bucks, I assume.

But, in defense of all right brained folks like myself out there, is that, like, the WORST drawing of a heart and stars you’ve ever seen, or what??

(And if you’re reading through my Facebook feed and can’t see an image here, you really need to click through to the original post this time).