Both girls had a cold all last week.  There were a couple of really awful days in there, it was a bad cold.  I’m ok with colds, not the most patient, but usually pretty understanding.  Each time sickness descends on the house (yes, I now think I have caught the cold), I’m reminded of my dad.  My mom is awesome in so many ways.  I don’t think any written word about her could give her even an ounce of the credit she deserves.  However, like me, she was just so, so with us sick.  It was my dad who really stepped it up a notch.  He always went into super dad mode, showering you with juice, tapioca pudding and cool rags.  When I was recently sick in the hospital after my hysterectemy, my daddy stayed in the hospital all night with me.  He gave the nurses a few scares because he was dressed in all black with a ski cap pulled way down over his head because of the near freezing condition I demanded.  In addition to the freezing room, he kept bringing rags freshly cooled down by the cold water.  All night.   It was the only thing that kept me from being really sick.  If I stayed completely still and completely cold, I could keep myself ok.  He mentioned recently that I gave him hell for taking one of my graham crackers from a stash I had in a drawer.  (yes, these kept me from getting sick, too.)  Um, that was ridiculous.  Maybe I should have related more when Joelle woke up one day this week and said, “THAT WAS THE WORST NIGHT OF SLEEP…. EVER!”  I guess we all get a little crabby when we’re sick?   

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