Daughter: Doesn't your watch hurt because it's metal?
Me: No - I got used to it. And let's not forget that I'm hard as nails as well. But I can see why you think it would be painful. It would probably hurt you if you wore it. Just like there would be painful things that I could wear.
Daughter: Is that why you don't have a watch made of fire and lobsters?
Me: To be honest that is partly true.
First let's do a flu-roundup. Still only my daughter that's been tainted by that. Although I have a very faint electrical feeling in my eardrums that isn't normal. Mind you I did inadvertently hear this horrible nonsense yesterday - so my eardrums may actually be irreparably harmed. Still I made it to the gym this morning and ran like a man possessed while I was there. (Two quick things to note about that. Firstly on weekdays the place has people battering down the doors at 5.30 when it opens. The last three Saturday's when I've gone I've been completely alone there for a good 15 minutes. I feel like I've been lured into a gym-based snuff movie being made. Secondly - today I passed not one but two people biking through the snow. I sometimes catch a glimpse of myself running in that I think I must look mental - but biking? Might as well drag a canoe out in it).
My son was an aggravating angry little shit yesterday. All seven shades of arsehole. I'm putting it down to having some form of this illness rather than him just being a muppet. He'd angrily demand something, then knock something over, then climb the back of the couch, then climb on me for a hug before quickly attempting a painful assassination choke-hold before moving quickly on to running off into another room to slam the door. Then he'd spend five minutes gushing contrition and repeating that he loves me - and trying to cuddle me so feverishly that me moving to get comfortable flips him into another psychotic rage about how I never let him do anything. Then he descended into that idiotic kid logic that says that seeing as I've just told him, "No" fifteen times he might as well do everything he's not allowed to because clearly the word holds no inherent value anymore. That attitude flickered on and off all day long. He then had a nice serene couple of hours of normal behavior before deciding that my sitting next to his fragile sister gave him permission to body-slam the two of us repeatedly - despite pleading for him to stop and/or piss off. He did repeat his new word "whoopsidents" a lot though.
Toward the afternoon though his sister had a 60-90 minute period where you wouldn't know she was sick at all. You could tell because she a) smiled, b) made fun of everyone, and c) came up with the word, "farmpit" to describe a farmer's armpit. She also seemed to remember that during her confused state she realized that she had a super secret skill and needed frantically to tell me what it was. Disturbingly that skill was revealed as, "I can hear when people take their pants off." Which she learned by the fact that she heard me changing into some shorts to do a workout even though she was facing the other way under a blanket. Obviously the first thing that came to mind was that scene in The Sixth Sense - except instead of seeing dead people it's hearing pants being taken off. Which is much scarier. But that awakening into brightness was very welcome - even if it did involve that skill. It was instant too - she just woke up from a dazed, flu-influenced coma and started singing about how I'm big and round. And then she faded out again. This was late yesterday afternoon. Evidently even the dog had succumbed to the plague at that point.
And this would be her this morning. Her chipper periods are much longer but she will then feebly collapse and do a prolonged nasty cough before complaining that her joints ache.
She's fading again now though after a pretty impressive morning. I can tell because she's wrapped under a blanket-cocoon and is facing the back of the couch. Which means she can't see anything going on (ie - she isn't worried about missing anything exciting because she's too feeble to care) and isn't afraid of being pummeled by her brother because the code amongst violent children includes not beating sick girls.
Time for me to hang out in the kitchen and secretly eat no-bake cookies now. Parenting at it's finest.