If I have to look at one more thing that's emerged from someone else's body in the next 24 hours I may lose what's left in my own.
We've had two colds in a row, big, congested colds that have Charlie sounding like someone is revving a Harley in his oesophagus and generating so much snot that I've been finding it in his ears. The Frog is sleeping like a chainsaw at the bottom of a well and I'm sleeping with loo-roll up each nostril to stop the Nile running out and flooding the cat.
The only member of this household unaffected has been Sammy but he's made up for that by sicking up his dinner in all sorts of inappropriate places... nothing like hauling a vomiting cat over one's plate and hoping for the best to spice up one's evening.
Anyway, so I've been entertaining my snotty son by letting him help make dinner. Tonight he happily cracked eggs for an omelet and then whisked them the hell over the counter. This morning he helped me make coffee. As soon as he hears the coffee machine or a blender going on he crashes into the kitchen, pushes a stool over to me and yells 'sit down! sit down!' until I hike him up to the counter so he can put his hundred tiny hands into whatever he can reach.
Perhaps this interest in cuisine is why he has been sampling so many new foods recently; which yesterday included escaping into a corner with a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. He was, at the time, spending the day at the studio with his Dad, who is therefore entirely to blame for what rolled down the spud's trouser leg and into the close confines of our flat this morning. Happily, this was discovered at the exact moment that his Grandpere connected to us for the first time via Skype. We turned on our video just in time for poor Papi Georges to see his grandson's poo-stained foot being hauled off for a wash, followed swiftly by the pleasure of watching the cat throw up on the empty sofa and no, unfortunately, I am NOT making it up.
Anyway, we're all settled down now and off to bed for the night. Just as I was writing the above paragraph, the Frog blew his nose and the Spud crashed awake with the cry of 'sit down sit down' as though the coffee machine had just been switched on. Sammy hasn't thrown up since 9pm and I may actually make it through the night with a clear sinus, hallelujah.
Just a little PS for the cat fanciers out there, Sammy is indeed a bit poorly. Could be the thyroid, could be his kidneys, he's nearly 18 and they're currently battling it out to see who can kill him first. My money's on his heart murmur. He is eating again though and we're off to the vet on Friday for a check up.