We’re playing a game that’s not much fun in our house: Pass the Lurgy. Every time one of us shows any signs of recovering from this wretched bug, it flairs up in another family member. We just keep passing the germs around. We have been playing for three weeks now. It is starting to lose its novelty.
Being ill in the same house as a sick child is quite a revelation. Resting is out of the question. Curling up on the sofa with the Poorly Duvet and watching crap television all day is not an option. The unending stream of inane chat shows induces rabid coughing in Baby. Actually, I’m beginning to suspect that daytime television is produced specifically to drive staff back to work, it is so awful. I cannot come up with any other explanation for the trash that fills the screen during office hours. If I have to endure another pitiful confrontation entitled “My Mother Stole My Boyfriend While I Was Pregnant” I swear I’ll gnaw my own arm off.
Forget sleep. Even at night. Little S is so congested that after ninety minutes of slumber, she’s wakes half suffocated. Saying that she is a little crabby, is a bit like saying the sea is a little wet.
And Baby continues to generate green slime on an industrial scale. I have impressed myself with my own capacity for snot production, but, really, she’s a goo-making machine. It’s a shame that I can’t think of a commercial use for the stuff or I’d be a very wealthy man, ethical issues of growing rich on child labour aside, of course.
It shows no sign of abating. Worse still, and I never thought this would happen, but I’m in serious danger of running out of hankies. It like the Ravens thinking about leaving the Tower.
I hope the snot has stopped coming out of Baby S's eyes
Posted by: The Boy Who Likes To | Friday, 23 February 2007 at 01:56 PM
I'm pleased to report that Little S no longer likes a zombie. Relief all round. c.
Posted by: Carlton | Friday, 23 February 2007 at 07:52 PM