They are scattered about the living room. Bodies splayed as if washed ashore during a storm. Their coughs, sneezes and weak voiced whines are barely audible above the drone of cartoons. Foreheads felt, medicine doled out, juice poured...yes, we are sick.
We volley between contented cuddling and exacerbated exhales. After too many hours logged in at home, we are all a bit tense. I switch the tv off for breaks every hour and as the screen blackens the whining intensifies until little eyes flutter shut and naps begin. While one naps, one roams the kitchen unsuccessfully looking for an appetizing bite. Another gives a half hearted attempt at Lego's before finally just laying their clammy head on the rug.
I rarely second guess a decision, but a nagging voice in my head is blaming me for this round of plague. I was in a rush to get home even though I knew my parents had been sick. Mommy guilt to the extreme.
So, we are off to the doctor again today. Our weekly adventure money traded for co-pays.