I’m pretty sick today. And not like man-cold sick. The kind that has my eyes half glazed over, 900 number raspy-esque voice, wishing someone would slice slits into my face to drain my sinuses and relieve the 600lb pressure.
I’m fine. It’s fine. We’re fine.
Still trying to be present with my family laying on the couch because I was gone this weekend, worked all day, and I love them.
Cory (joking): “Just go take some NyQuil and try to get some sleep you’re dragging us all down.”
☝🏼please note the last word he used was DOWN. d.o.w.n.
That is not the word my kids heard.
Braxton (looking up from his iPad in shock at what his dad just said):
“MOMS DRAGGING US ALL TO HELL?!?? WHAT?!”
Braylon: “MOMMY WHY WOULD YOU DRAG US ALL TO HELL?!?!?”
Landon: “WE’RE GOING TO HELL? Can Lucy come?” 👈🏼 Lucy is our dog.
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Morale of the story: be nice to your sick wife. And don’t make dumb dad jokes with a bunch of boys in the room who have mastered the art of the half-listen.