Friday evening we were driving home from Starbuck’s after allowing the boys to try out their big voices in the shop, and then deciding the rest of the world wasn’t quite ready for that. I still recall sitting at a traffic light, turning to my husband, and saying how great I thought it is that I have not contracted either of the death viruses that Roark has been passing around to the rest of the family. I am an idiot.
I woke up Saturday morning with next-to-no-voice, a throat that was on fire and an awesome runny nose. I thought it was just a bad cold but am wondering today if there might be some sort of bug growing in my throat, surviving by eating the skin off. It is that pleasant.
So I have spent the weekend whining and complaining and blowing my nose. It has been a blast for everyone I am sure. Both of the boys have colds too – so we are a great bunch to be around.