My kids have both got colds at the moment and are snuffling and sneezing about the house, splattering every surface (and me) in mucus as they go. Making me wish that I hadn’t just spent a week redecorated the lounge. Actually, I don’t think it matters when I decorate, as they also both suffer with hayfever and seem to secrete sticky stuff constantly all year round.
I suppose it’s one of the unspoken joys of parenthood, to have your immune system bombarded constantly with every virus known to man – courtesy of your own offspring. [They normally save the really nasty unknown ones to just before we go on holiday/vacation, so as I’m incapacitated and still need time to recuperate, once the holiday’s over]. On the plus side, my impending case of almost terminal man-flu has given me inspiration for another poem:
A problem shared is a problem halved
Or at least that’s what we’re told
But the fact is my dear, that just isn’t true
When the problem is your cold.