Whoopsie

DemiGoddess the Younger had a very close call yesterday morning. Early in her day at school, she was seated at a table in the junior high cafeteria, where she and the rest of the eighth grade were taking their “honors test”—the exam designed to evaluate whether or not they are qualified participate in the honors program at the high school next year.

Two questions into her test, Ms. Younger began to feel a little bit sweaty, and a little bit burp-y, and a little bit like her stomach, which had been feeling not quite right since halfway through her bus ride to school, was suddenly about to stage a hostile takeover. At the last possible moment, she made a desperate dash for the door, and was just outside the cafeteria when she lost her breakfast on the hallway floor.

After getting the call from the school nurse, I left work and brought Ms. Younger home, where she spent the rest of the day on the couch watching Dr. Phil and sipping peppermint tea. A school counselor called in the afternoon to let her know that she’ll be permitted to make up the test on Friday, but her real fears were put to rest a couple of hours later, when her friends called to find out what had happened to her.

Apparently, none of the other students had seen a thing, and only her friend A., who had been seated very near the door, had heard the splat.

What a relief.

(P.S. She’s fine now.)