Brigid woke up yesterday in the early stages of a cold-type sickness with mild fever that left her crabby, uninterested in food, and congested enough during naptime that fighting said nap led to coughing led to vomiting in bed led to falling asleep on the couch, sitting up.
I've already felt less than stellar this week, so Steve volunteered to take on the overnight toddler shift, so I didn't also come down with whatever plague it is she's carrying this time.
Steve is now fighting a combination platter of a sleepless night that involved getting up every hour or two with a stuffy Brigid and his already suspect immune system, so I'd imagine it's just a matter of time before he's down for the count, too.
We are not a family that handles sickness well, and I'd venture to say that preschool is going to be a terrible, terrible time for us all, come this fall.
Send chicken soup and tissues, please...and maybe a nanny who will tuck us all into bed for the weekend?