My daughter has finally gotten to the age when she realizes that she's not feeling well, and that the offending illness is called a "cold." My morning started out with the child crawling into bed with me, and then laying next to me breathing out her nose making snot noises. Not fun. She rolled over and looked at me and said, "Mommy, I think I have a cold." As the day progressed, so did the snot issues. Sneezes, tissues and snot monopolized my day as they tend to whenever the kid is sick. But again, this day was different because she was able to put a name to it. C-O-L-D. But that also made it a bit easier to treat. With a cold, you have to rest. With a cold, you have to go to bed on time. With a cold, you need to take the medicine. Tonight, actually, was the first time Sydney has taken real cold medicine. It seems to have worked okay, but when I checked on her a bit ago, she was breathing out her nose, though still with a snotty undertone. Now, Brian's and my priority is to stay healthy. This will be easier for him than me, but we'll both put up a valiant fight, I assure you. It seems as though these colds are coming fast and furious lately. I'm over them, but they don't seem to be over me. They're stalking me.
I like this picture a whole lot, and feel that it's apropos for this particular post because the illness in the house is crashing against us with the force of a hurricane. It's a metaphor.
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