Charlie's down. With the latest craze in colds, that is. Probably the same one that I had and that Jack had, which means it's a bad one. I thought we had gotten it from him and Cubby, but maybe not. Who can tell? It's a big, snotty cycle of illness.
As my children would say, "Christmas and illness rhyme!"
Well, not exactly, but close enough that I bet I could compose a very amusing ditty on the subject. As soon as I'm not swiping snot off an upper lip for the millionth time or making yet another cup of tea with honey that will go untouched.
It's kind of like Christmas sickness roulette. Who will be sick on the big day? Who will be healthy? Who will be mostly well but still drippy? Lay your bets now! The winner gets . . . well, nothing, I suppose.
I don't know where I'm going with this. Par for the course these days. Happy Holidays! WHEEE!
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