There’s no such thing as only baby Genevieve getting the virus. Well, maybe the first day Genevieve’s the only one with a snotty nose. Strangely enough, however, sometime during the night, the cold turned into this enormous monster that has contaminated everyone overnight.
The next morning I find myself staring at four double-barreled snotguns around the breakfast table. Never mind... I’m not hungry.
Out comes the rolls of toilet paper. The pretty tissue boxes once sitting on the coffee table for times such as these were consumed in a day or two because it was just so much fun to pull them out of the tissue box.
“Don’t wipe your nose on your shirt!” I say about every five minutes. “Cover your mouth when you cough!” “Please make it in the bucket this time!”
“NOOOOOOO!” I scream, scaring Haleigh half to death as she drops Austin’s sippy cup on the floor, juice spilling everywhere. “NOBODY DRINK AFTER AUSTIN!”
The kids are now huddled under their blankets on the couch, mom has turned into this purple medicine stained, tissue, lysol monster.
Did I forget to mention that Daddy is also ten times sicker at this time? Nobody is sicker than dad! Daddy is practically dying! Call the ambulance he has a temperature! Can you imagine being in the delivery room with a man in labour? We'd have to call the Army National Guard!
My home now smells like the nursing home and looks like I’m running a cotton factory with all the balled up tissue EVERYWHERE!
A week later when everyone is finally well and accounted for...it's your turn!