Their dad had his turn last week, and now the boys have followed. There's no joy like tending to the runny noses of those who don't know how to blow them. It has its upside though--Willem has added the word "tissue" to his vocabulary.
Fortunately for us, Nels enjoys the drama and novelty of being sick. Throwing up falls somewhere behind construction equipment and ahead of birthdays as favorite conversation fodder. I once found him in the hallway singing a song to himself about a meal he'd lost at his grandparents' house the previous week: "lots of carrots and some chicken..."
So of course it was an event when he realized he was sick today. "Mommy, my voice is wrong." But it came out "Bobby, by boice is wrog." Completely taken with the sound of his congestion, he attempted to manufacture more conversation so he could continue talking and listening to himself. "Bobby, I don't have to be afraid of bonsters. Or robots." It went on.
Here's to a speedy recovery to our sweet little sneezers.