I came home from work late yesterday, barely in time for dinner. Babygirl was nowhere to be seen. I set the table, and then ran upstairs to get her since she didn't respond to my text (it's our version of an intercom LOL).
She came down, and she looked like somebody had taken a club to her spirit. All questions were answered in monosyllables. She didn't want to eat. Hubby and I passed more than a few frightened glances back and forth, finally specifically asking about bullying or trouble on the walk home.
"I'm just really tired."
I know she hasn't really been too active this summer. Fatigue has been an ongoing issue. But DANG, she looked so......defeated. And it's only the first day.
She took some Tylenol for a headache. She went upstairs to rest.
And we worried.
A couple of hours later, she was looking more herself. She was able to cheerfully discuss the day a little, and shared some online videos with me that had made her smile (or cry, depending. "Heaven Needed a Hero" in tribute to Cory Monteith was tough). We shared a bag of popcorn. By the time we went to bed I was feeling a bit more reassured, but.....
Crap. We'd really rather be hearing stories about teachers in Spandex.