The Days of Day

On Friday I thought Marcus, my five year old, was sick.   His big brother was home with strept throat, again, and so Friday morning, when Marcus reported a sore throat, I was pretty sure it was strept. It wasn't.  My guess is that it was a sore throat that landed somewhere between I-Don't-Want-To-Miss-Sick-Time-T.V. and sympathy pains. So, at 10:15 a.m. Marcus was heading to school with a clean bill of health from his pediatrician.  He was petrified to enter class late with a Pink Slip.  In fact, most of the ride to school from the doctor's office consisted of Marcus using his most serious voice to ask every possible permutation of the question, "How does the Pink Slip work?" When we arrived at school, we left big brother in the car, walked into the office, got the dreaded Pink Slip, and headed down to his classroom.  Marcus drew up the courage to carry the Pink Slip the final ten steps into the room, we knocked, and then walked in. The room smelled heav...