A mate of mine had been copping a flogging over the weekend. Both he and his wife came down with some sort of bug, the result being neither of them were feeling especially energetic.
The kids, of course, were perfectly okay. And by perfectly okay I mean they did what they usually do and ran riot.
“I’m sorry,” my mate croaked from the lounge as his wife sorted out the scuffles and found food for their little mites. “I can’t help. I want to, but I can’t.”
Naturally, this earned him scathing criticism from his wife and the old ‘man-flu’ tag.
I’m tired of this man-flu stuff. It seems every time I get sick around the same time as Tracey she storms into the bedroom, dragging the hoard of loud and hungry kids in her wake who proceed to surround my death bed, and I have to try justify the depths of my illness instead of being allowed to die quietly in a corner. I have a theory – sickness hits us men harder because it knows we can take it.
When neither my mate nor his wife were any better after the weekend they booked into their doctor to see if they could get anything to hurry their recovery along.
“You’ve got tonsillitis ” the Doc told my mate. A flurry of activity on the keyboard produced a prescription and a certificate for some time off work. Finally the Doc turned to my mate’s wife. “Whereas I’m afraid all you have is a bit of a sore throat.”
Way to score one for the team, mate!!
Look out, girls, we’re starting to catch up 😉
When not typing away over here and checking his stats every two minutes
Bruce Devereaux hangs out at his ‘BIG FAMILY little income’ Facebook Page.
’raising a family on little more than laughs’