The plague flag is flying here at Boo Towers.
Tallulah slowly worsened over the course of yesterday and was utterly miserable by tea time. She couldn’t go to her dad’s for the weekend, which saddened her greatly, and she was not appeased by the thought of staying at home in the warm with me.
I can understand that entirely.
This morning, Oscar was having a friend round to play. It was quite early when the friend arrived, and I put Oscar’s listlessness down to the fact that he hadn’t been awake for very long.
By lunch time when the friend’s mother came to pick him up it was obvious that the grey faced boy who snuggled into my arms and burst into tears as his friend left, was not entirely himself.
I threw him in a tepid bath to bring his temperature down and then snuggled up with him, whereupon we have dozed the entire afternoon away.
We are not full of festive spirit. We are full of festive lurgy. The good thing is that it should all be done by Christmas, but I am not sure now, how either of them are going to fare next week at school. Having done a bit of research amongst similarly stricken families it seems that this is the sort of cold that likes to linger.
It will be no terrible thing if they miss the last week of the Christmas term. They generally spend most of it watching films they could just as easily watch at home. It is going to put rather a crimp in my attempts to have magenta and silver hair on Monday though.
Unless Derek is willing to cat sit them for me.