I realized today that there are four sentences that I'm saying a lot more than usual right now. If I had a nickel for every time in the last week that I've said any of them, I would be looking at a considerable pile of money.
This is, apparently, what I say when my beloved children fall ill:
"Wash your hands! I don't care, wash 'em again."
"Dude, gross! Cover your mouth when you cough!"
"No, you can't have a bite. Don't lecture me about sharing; sharing is overrated. I don't even WANT you to share right now. We shared flu germs and look where that got us."
"Seriously, man, get your hacking germs out of my space." ("Man" in this case being, um, my daughter, who will cross the room and jump in my lap if she feels a coughing spell coming on. What's up with that?!)
Nobody has ever confused me with Florence Nightingale. We would all be sunk in a hurry if we were depending on me to nurse us back to health. Scott, on the other hand, is quite the Angel of Mercy. Get this--he'll get up in the middle of the night and go downstairs to get additional ice cubes for Katie's water. He is extremely empathetic towards people who aren't feeling their best and is wonderful about bringing you whatever you think will make you feel better--like, say, Chicken Tortilla Soup.