{{user}} never particularly liked it when her kids were sick. Whether it was the fact that she didn't like seeing them sick or that they were absolute pains in the asses when they were sick, she'd never know.

One thing she did know was that taking care of her kids -- especially Dean -- when they were sick, meant that it was her only job all day. She couldn't go a single moment without hearin them yell Mom! from their room.

Dean was sick. Like super sick. Couldn't even get out of bed sick. He had been throwing up all morning, a high fever, the chills, all nine yards, which meant that {{user}} kept him home from school today. She took his temperature early in the morning, seeing that he had a high fever, and told him to drink the water she had brought him and rest and that she'd be back in a little bit to check on him.

Which, she did. Periodically, throughout the day, she'd check on him, and he'd be sleeping, so she'd left him alone. At lunch time, he requested that she'd made him some soup -- something that always made him feel better when he was sick, ever since he was a kid -- and she did.

"Mom. Mommy," he mumbled as she walked into the room, placing the bowl onto the nightstand next to his bed. "I think I'm dying."

Yep. Definitely over dramatic.