Inconsiderate bad man

Ever since having the audacity to come home with a head cold late last week, my presence in the Fraser house has been rather sneered upon.  At least by the one other member of the house capable of voicing his or her discontent.

First Declan came down with the cold, and he's been, sporadically, a snivelling-whiny-clingy-baby boy.  My wife doesn't mind the clingy too much, since I get most of that, Dex being a Daddy's boy and all.  The rest of it though, she can do without.

Now, it looks like our infant is showing signs.  He was snuffling a little the previous evening, in a very non-upagus sort of way.  Thankfully, this coincides with a doctor's appointment Thursday afternoon where he can get a thorough once-over.

Amy has told me, in terms that laughed in the face of ambiguity and gave Forthright an education in confrontational methods, that the next time I so much as suspect an itinerant sniffle sneaking up on me, I would probably be best advised to lay low in a hotel for a while.

I hope that Tavish doesn't have my cold.  A one-month old with a head cold will not a happy family make.

UPDATE:

My wife reports that though Tavish evinces some slight sniffles today, he is a happy and healthy boy and we hold out hope that he will not succumb to his father's malaise.

Comments

[Mark]

The nerve of some people. Sheesh, Simon. You think the whole stinkin' world revolves around you?

Seriously, though. A hotel? Now those are drastic measures, my friend. One thing is abundantly clear: homegirl don't play.

[ornamental peach]

Mother o' four here again: iffin ya'll don't have a humidifier, high tail it over to the store IMMEDIATELY. You'll thank me. But keep it immaculately cleaned out.

And based on what you've told me about lack of sleep lately - honey, if my man told me to stay in a hotel if I got sick, I'd be feeling a sore throat or sniffle coming on once a week! Ah....uninterupted slumber....sorry, just went to my happy place there for a moment.

[Linda]

My condolences on the snifflies...
Simon, once again you amaze and dazzle me with your ponderous command of the English language and the alacrity with which you express your "wundrous" self. (ie. snuffling/non-upagus. You kill me.)

[Paul]

Tell Amy: Life Happens. Deal with it. Plus, you're just contributing to the future strength of your sons' immune systems.

[Jim (of Brazil)]

Getting sick is a sign of weakness, Simon... something that cannot be tolerated in us representatives of the "hunter/provider" gender: who will bring home the venison? who will fend off the hungry bears?

Just do what I do: pound your chest with your fist and in a manly voice declare "Ahh! How I love a stuffy nose! Nothing like a little suffering to keep me in touch with my masculinity! Honey, where's my shotgun ... I feel like going out and killing something!"

[rick]

It's a sharing thing. In just a few short years both Declan & Tavish will routinely be bringing interesting strains of contagion not usually seen this side of the Amazon or some anonymous grey government research building home with them from school, and sharing them all with you.

Jim (of Brazil)'s advice is sound: pound that masculine rheumy chest frequently- it helps keeps the phelgm on the move.

[TerriTorial]

I second the Humidifier.

Sorry about the sniffles.

[Linda]

Oh, by the way- "Can't Hardly Wait"- one of my two favorite Replacement's tunes ever! How did you know? A constant source of amazement, I swear...