Instead of a touching and sentimental post about how great it was to have my parents here helping us and how sad we are they left today (who will do the laundry? hang with Elizabeth? empty the dishwasher? hold Andrew constantly?), I'm wishing I had hopped in the back of their car as they sped away from the sick house, driving toward 80 degree weather.
My dad got it first, and his developed into bronchitis. Then my mom went down, then Rich. And yesterday, Elizabeth. Andrew and I are hanging strong, but I'm not sure how long we'll hold out.
1 day ago