We are harbouring a few germs (or a few million) at the moment, as the children are tag-teaming illnesses. The seven-year old has an on/off temperature, the three-year old and the baby are both intermittently sick, and the five-year old has a bad case of wishful thinking. (It goes something like this: My tummy feels squirly, so can I stay at home and watch a film, too?)
If mopping up vomit, anticipating toilet trips and administering Calpol weren't enough, there's the lost sleep to contend with. I'm so tired I feel like there's ground glass in my eyes, and I keep falling asleep at odd moments of the day. I'm fairly sure my immune system is revolting, too ... not in the urgh way you might assume, given the bodily fluids I'm surrounded by, but by succumbing to a force 10 cold.
So I can't even muster the energy right now to feel guilty that all my writing this week has been as wishful in execution as the five-year old's illness.
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