I spent Saturday almost completely unconscious due to the latest disgusting cold I've managed to pick up. It might have happened on one of the airplanes from Chicago or Toronto, or while I was talking on my bacteria-ridden cell phone, or biting my nails after typing on my grimy keyboard. Or--and this is my best guess--it is Rob's fault, because he was sick last week and even though we only spent about 12 hours together all week, he has that kind of infectious ability.
But we had planned to go to Long Island in our shiny new car to see his sister and her kids. Recognizing that this was not a good idea, I tried to gracefully bow out.
Rob: Please come with me.
Me: I'm sick. I don't want to get the kids sick.
Rob: You're not contagious anymore. They'll be fine.
Me: I think that's an old wives tale, the thing about not being contagious when you're sick. I'm all germy. I can tell.
Rob: You're germy because you live in New York. It's filthy.
[Silence as I considered this.]
Rob: And because you're a girl.
Jack is TWO!
3 years ago