All three Luckwaldts have colds today, which is a problem, because we keep looking for the adult to show up and he or she is VERY LATE.
It started yesterday with Adam saying, “Hmm. I have kind of a scratchy throat.”
“No, you don’t,” I said. “You don’t. You feel fine.”
He loosened his collar and shifted the baby. “No, I’m pretty sure my throat is scratchy. Maybe I should put on a mask so I don’t infect this baby.”
Of course, the problem is that by the time you realize you should wear a mask, it’s too late. Cold germs are the smartest critters in the world that don’t actually have a brain. They’re super good at sneaking up your nose and into your throat while you’re not looking.
So now, all three of us are sick. But Adam is definitely the most miserable, because he let me catch up on sleep last night. Given my options, at this point I’d rather have a cold and nine hours of sleep under my belt than not have a cold and get by on three or four.
But here’s how things get screwed up when you try to do things the way we’re doing them. Today’s a workday for me; tomorrow and Friday are workdays for Adam. To make things work, I’ll take a few hours off this afternoon to give him a nap, and then make up the time later tonight. This wasn’t his suggestion, by the way. He’s insisting that he can get through until nighttime. But I’m looking at him right now and seeing a person who might actually melt into a puddle of snot on the ground. It’s time for some rest.
Meanwhile, the poor baby has no idea what’s going on. She keeps looking at me with her red eyes and boogery nose, like, “I feel BAD. What is HAPPENING to me?”
“You have a cold, poor sweet Baboo,” I tell her. And of course, she doesn’t understand. But she does seem to enjoy the sympathy in my tone.