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.
