Flu talk

I knew it. I knew it when the thought of being done with winter illnesses crept into my head last week…that I shouldn’t believe it. I knew that I should shake my head as hard as I could to pulverize any inkling of having the “season of sick” done and over with.

But I couldn’t. I held on a little too tight and a little too strong and briefly envisioned an early spring with no snot or fever or cough. It was too glorious of a thought to let go. Like warm sun melting the snow away. Like thoughts of playing with no coats on and running on dew covered glass with no shoes. These times will come. But you must wait.

And just when you think you have made it to nirvana, you get bitch slapped with a delirious flu ridden three year old. And all the comfort we got from the doctor this morning was when he turned to walk out of the examining room. He stopped, turned, looked at me and my brood and got down on one knee and said to the boys, “Now boys, whatever you do, don’t go licking you’re your sister, ok?”

Oh, thanks for planting that seed!

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