Boys and Girls are Different

After so many daughters, having a son is a little surprising sometimes.

Apparently boys are different from girls even in illness.

Recently both of the twins had a stomach virus. (At separate times, of course. We pass things around over a period of several weeks around here.)

Little Girl lay on the couch with a bucket nearby and looked pitiful, drifting in and out of sleep and getting a little whiny for a couple of days, which is how her sisters had always reacted to sickness.


Little Boy careened around the room clutching his stomach, yelling, “MY TUMMY HURTS!” Then he would settle on the couch for a minute or two before getting up and lurching about again. 

“MY TUMMY!! MY TUMMY!!” he would scream, and then lie down briefly on a different couch, or a chair, or the floor.


He did this for several hours.

I don’t know if I can survive boy-sickness.

Back From Death’s Door

I’ve been sick all weekend.

And by the above title, I do not mean I was “Knock-Knock-Knockin on Heaven’s Door.”

It’s more like, “Scratching Helplessly at the Doggie-Door of Death.”

I don’t get sick often, although it’s interesting to note I got sick at this same time last year.

(To read that heart-warming story click here.)

In any case, this time it was step throat that almost killed me.

But I did not die. I rose from my bed of sweat and snot and sickness, and I went forth… to cook for and clean up after people.

What an anti-climax, right?