La Influenza

Early on Sunday morn, la influenza came calling. Sore throat, headache, and raging fever put its personal mark on child number 3. He was one of two asthmatic children living here who should have had a flu shot the first day they came out - if only President Obama had stopped by to pick up the tab. Since he failed to locate our house, October and a new paycheck seemed a much smarter way to experience the vaccine. Ironically, it was the very day the shots were scheduled that la influenza rang our doorbell.

At 4 p.m. Sunday, the thermometer was a constant fixture in all ears here and poetic phrases escaped nervous lips.

"I'm 99.9 in the left ear and 100.5 in the right."

"Oh yeah, well I'm 101.1 in the right and 97.8 in the left."

By Sunday night, child #3 was emptying his already empty food repository all over the kitchen floor and his parents were scrambling to see who could best take a day off work on Monday.

Monday morning at 6.30 brought the usual demands always polite requests:

"Will you finish making my lunch?"

"Can you get the laces in my shoes?"

"Do you think my fever of 99.0 is high enough for me to stay home from school?"

At 8:30 a.m., the erstwhile mother realized that each of her children had used the same hand towel to wipe their post-brushed mouths, and she nearly lost her esteemed well-contained composure.

Thus, at 9:02 a.m., she removed all towels from house and hung paper towels in their place.

At 5:37 p.m, the patriarch of the homestead used a buzz saw to cut the paper towels in half and thereby reduce the financial obligations of said brainstorm.

By 8:00 p.m. child #3 and child #4 claimed ignorance that paper towels weren't supposed to be flushed even though they might look exactly like toilet tissue.

By 8:38 p.m. Monday, the mother had moved into the sick room to tend Master Influenza where she reported to all concerned:

"I'm 99.9 in the left and 101.3 in the right."

Interestingly enough, no one even looked her way.