It is SNOT my Fault!

by Anthony Romanelli

That title is not incorrect...read on...

"Aaahchooo," sneezes This One. "Bless you," says That One. These are not Dr. Seuss characters; these are our six-month old and my 2 ½ year old nicknames respectively.

"Honey, gould you ged my tea?" also asks my extremely flu-ridden wife. She is cold, hot, sneezy, snotty, and unhappy, all rolled into one. It's as if all of Snow White's dwarfs are beating the crap out of each other and landing in my wife's ears, nose, and throat at the same exact time all the while hurling gobs of mucus at one another.

I turn the corner-another sneeze from This One. I look up, another "Bless you," from That One. I swear to God, my life is a snot-filled, germ infested, never-ending cartoon of disease. Even my cat is looking at me right now asking, "What the hell is going on?" If I had a place of solace, I would be happy. If I had a hideout, I could find some ounce of contentment somewhere.

On top of living in Snots-Ville, my pillow is angry at me because I'm sleeping downstairs, trying to stay clear of Snot-O-Palooza '08. My back is slouching aggravated at every move I make and underneath it all, I continue to support the phlegm-fest and ask, "What else can I do/get you, honey?"

Though I am not a germ-a-phobe, I feel like I should be walking around with those Handi-Wipes in a holster to pull out to catch and kill any-a-sneeze at 10 paces.

This is just a ten minute time span, by the by, people...

As evening progresses, it is also Bath Night. Two girls, two-thousand bubbles, and two hundred sneezes await. There is a method to this madness, though. My wife, who handles the bath situation right now (gentleman, and you can back me on this, things go in cycles, and right now it's mommy's turn for All-Things-Bath.) has This One on her lap and That One in the tub.

While the ‘lap bath' is progressing along nicely with This One, ‘bathtub bath' is a ridiculous tornado of bubbles, snot and waves of water. Our Maggie, 2 ½ decides that a Bath Tornado would be AWESOME and flails her arms all over the tub. Water is on the floor, all over a clean, dry This One, bubbles are in Maggie's nose, making her sneeze all-the-more, and my poor, sick wife looks lost and helpless as I stand at the door waiting to take This One off her hands. I lift This One off the lap of my wife and stand at the door, willing and helpless, like a Labrador Retriever with only a bone is his mouth and no owner.

Moments calm and ships begin to dock as Maggie calms herself down only to Kodak her own moment, twirling her up in a towel, water-soaked chestnut eyeballs peek through toward her mommy and she quietly peeps out, "Thank you, Mommy."

"Aaaachoooo," sneezes my wife in return...