I read in the news this weekend that Norovirus was wreaking havoc across the country. It gave me a name for the junk that just ran its course through our house. Norovirus is an extremely contagious stomach bug that is relatively short duration, but when you have a family of six, short duration is a week of sleepless nights and discomfort. It started on a Monday with our youngest, and then nothing happened Tuesday so we thought we had dodged a bullet. Wednesday afternoon we were hit with round two.
Ross came home from work to find our oldest over the toilet. "What are you doing in there, Buddy?"
"Huuuughghhhrstsch!"
"Calling Sasquatch, huh?"
"Hoorruughstch!"
"How's it working? Seen him yet?"
"Rahuuuheh."
Ross laughed. "Sorry, Buddy. It's only funny because I know I'm next."
The next night he was.
It's no fun being sick, but we did manage a movie marathon to the point that the kids were actually tired of watching shows. That was new territory.
When the week was over and we were finally able to creep out of quarantine, the kids and I visited the grandparents. My dad had a gift for Ross. He'd salvaged it from one of his rentals and couldn't think of a more appropriate recipient, apparently, than his son-in-law.
What does it mean when your father-in-law gifts you a used bidet? Is that taking the relationship to the next level...or should we move?
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