…crumble when faced with a 5-year-old with a stomach bug. As does my washing machine.
But, fortunately, today the husband is doing more work-related “stuff” than work, so he was available to take the other boys into school. (Ummm…which required my truck, so now I have a sick kid and no truck, which equals no Dunkin Donuts. As a warm and compassionate Mommy I try not to let this bother me, but I have no iced coffee. I’m drinking the crap that comes out of my coffee maker. Blech.)
So I shall try to write with a sick male creature in the house today. Those of you who have male creatures know that—regardless of age—they are truly pathetic when they don’t feel good. I’ve already flown out of the bathroom in response to the child’s distress call only to find he has an itchy shoulder and can’t raise his arm that high because he’s siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick.
I’m still waiting for my boa and bon-bons over here.
EDIT: The husband, being a highly intelligent not-sick male creature brought me an iced coffee before carrying on with his day. Much better.