We've had the Creeping Crud over here. Complete with strep throat, ear infections, and all the joy that comes with these, including my personal fave: irrational irritability. I am sick, which makes me super cranky (I was of the school of thought that moms don't get sick!?) and ill-(ha! sick pun!) equipped to care for my whining (albeit with legit whines) babies. There were a lot of conversations that started with incomprehensible whining and me yelling, "WHAT?!" and then feeling guilty because they're feverish and pathetic, backpedaling, "What? What is it sweetheart? Mommy hold you? Ok."
Friday I took the girls to the doctor (we're on antibodies now and not contagious so lean closer if you like). The waiting room does not separate the well-visit kids from riff-raff like us, so the girls were asked to wear masks. Ha!
Molly: No thanks. I don't want to wear that.
Me: Yes! They're funny! Look how silly Adrienne looks!
Molly: Not putting it on.
Me: Look, you'll look like a little bank robber! Isn't that fun?! Sick 'em up! (my pun was lost on her)
Molly: shakes head.
(Parents of less sickly kids are glaring at me: "Lady, you better cover up your kid's germy face!" I glare back, "I'm freakin' trying here!")
Me: Molly, put this thing on! You're infecting everybody in here!
Mercifully, the nurse called us in at this point. Note to self: for quick admission to the doctor, have kids refuse to wear hygiene masks.
In honor of the 8 bajillion tissues we've gone through, a Puffs commercial. And then, the only characters cuter than the Puffs kids are the Pop Tart kids.