Yeah, so, I’m sick.
I have a cold, and – as usual – I’m acting like a big baby about it. What is it about a runny nose and cough that turns me into a whiny crybaby?
A few years ago, I had breast cancer. I had three surgeries. I spent weeks on the couch recovering from these surgeries. I always tried to handle myself with grace and good humor. But when I have a cold, I’m like “OH MY GOD! I HAVE A COLD! STOP EVERYTHING YOU’RE DOING! YOU HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING FOR ME NOW! GET ME KLEENEX! BRING ME SOUP! AAAACHHHOOOOOO!”
But you know what? That ungrateful Spawn of mine doesn’t care if I’m sick. He’s all, “I’M EIGHT MONTHS OLD! STOP EVERYTHING YOU’RE DOING! YOU HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING FOR ME! CHANGE MY DIAPER! MAKE ME A BOTTLE! WAAAAHHHH!”
That big baby!
[Note: The Spawn might actually care that I’m sick. He looks at me with great concern whenever I sneeze. Also, mighty, mighty good man David is really the one doing all the work on the baby front. I don’t want to infect the little guy.]