In the last week everyone in the family has caught their first cold of the season. Everyone EXCEPT me, that is.
Ok, Tre hasn't gotten sick either. The point is that CLAY has succumbed and I have not, which clearly means that I'm winning.
Now, I can see how looking at that previous sentence written there like that, in cold black and white, you might be shaking your head a little. Maybe even thinking how immature I can be. I understand why you would think so - to which I say, "Shut it. Poop head."*
It's really not fair, I'll admit. After all, this morning at 6 (!), when Clay gently kissed me good-bye and headed manfully off to work, I chortled to myself and burrowed deeper amongst the warm covers and pillows, intent upon sleeping a few extra hours of the kind of sleep that is kryptonite to viruses. Ha ha! I am SO WINNING! UNFAIRLY! BUT STILL!
So you can imagine my joy when mere minutes later (ok, 90 minutes. Still.), I was pounced upon by my eldest son, who had roused himself just to check the morning paper.
"THEY DID IT!" he bellowed.
"Whaaa?" I peeled my eyelids open, throwing up my arms to shield my head from the onslaught of noise and unacceptable levels of joy.
"THE ROCKIES WON! WE'RE IN THE WORLD SERIES!"
And indeed, we are.
* I would so NOT say that, in real life. First of all, "shut it," is the same thing as "shut up," and We Don't Say That. Secondly, I'm still trying to live down the Slubby Pee Head incident. I will not be found guilty of Poop Head too.