Sick, sick, sick.  Joseph is upstairs asleep.  Mary is downstairs asleep.  Daddy is sniffling.  Lil'Nathan (who was sick with a tummy ache on Mon and Tues) is reading, running, teasing, and feeling fine.

This morning Mary came into our room and flopped herself at the foot of our bed and slept for about two hours.  Joseph had been in there since 2am or so.  (He's had a high fever and I wanted to keep an eye--and an arm--on him.)  Anyway, our bed is narrow and with Mommy, Mommy's tummy, Joseph, and Daddy, there was only room for Mary at the foot, so that's where she was.  After we'd been up and chatting for a while, she said, "I think I ate too much last night."  We asked why, she said she threw up, but since it was in the middle of the night, she didn't want to wake anyone.  I didn't hear anyone in the bathroom, so I had to ask, "Did you make it to the bathroom?"  "No, I just threw up on my bed."  Ummmm.... Daddy asked if she slept in it.  She was a little indignant.  "No, I slept on the other side!"  Oh.  Okay.  We had to laugh.  What else could we do?  "It" had been sitting on her bed for about 7 hours at this point, what was a little longer?

Joseph is stirring again.  He considers me something between a pillow and a teddy bear and very rarely for the past three days has he been off my person.  (I finished the John Adams biography and got a good portion of a new baby hat knitted while sitting under and next to my warm little "baby.")  Daddy is not an option he will accept at all.  Duty calls again.