In the throes

A couple of days ago, I wrote a post about how Aisling and I did some child care at a local church's Mothers of Pre-Schoolers (MOPS) meeting and how one of the mothers brought in her thirteen month old son with radioactive mucus leaking out of his nose, accompanied by much sneezing and coughing and general malaise. I was not happy about this, especially since the mother, whom I, in my exasperation, pegged as a real dimwit, plunked her son down on the counter and said, "He woke up like this this morning and I just don't know what it's all about."

I doused myself and Aisli with hand sanitizer -- we smelled like eau de operating room for the rest of the day -- but it was to no avail. This morning, after a good three days' of cozy incubation of the cold virus, the two of us woke up with scratchy throats, runny noses, sneezing, and in my case, coughing hard enough to turn myself inside out and back again.

I'm dearly hoping that this little plague will be short lived so that I won't regret the twenty dollars I earned.

*ker-choooooooooo!*