Ok, let me start off by saying that I’m sure I am the unintentional victim of our youngest daughter. But good grief what timing! We just started studies in language here and let’s just say my brain is a little maxed out. And while I firmly believe that to really embrace our new home we must make the effort to speak the language—I am beginning to wonder about my ability to really do that after one week of study. So you get the picture, right? Poor tired me, lying in bed on the one day we have to sleep a little late and our youngest comes trotting in and immediately rubs her face in my face—literally. She doesn’t usually do that, but I just figured she was trying to be affectionate (read infectionate—ok, bad pun sorry!). Honestly, I was hoping that if I lay really still she might just snuggle down for a few extra minutes. Then as she was breathing into my eyes, nose on my nose I hear/feel the congestion on her side and I realize that it’s probably too late. Sure enough, those things they teach you about the common cold—what every young child instinctively knows/does to spread communicable diseases—it’s true. That afternoon I could feel it starting to manifest. So I grated some fresh ginger, added hot water and honey, wiped our youngest one’s nose, muttered about the injustice of it all, and prayed this too would pass quickly.
