I'll preface this by saying the Chick Magnet is THE bravest guy I know when it comes to the painful, messy and gut-wrenching medical procedures he's had to endure. If you can manage to flirt with nurses just hours after the surgeons break your femurs and pin them back together, you just win the Pain Tolerance Trophy. There is no contest.
I can't even complain about the pain of childbirth and those last three stitches without numbing afterward with any credibility compared to what Steven's had done... some 24-ish times in his 22 years of life.
He has a...
"Moooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmm......... I have boogerssss....."
Mooooooommmmm, I don't think I'm going to make it. How long is this going to laaaassttt???"
Me: "Well, you woke up stuffy about three hours ago, so my best guess is a few more days."
Man Cold Sufferer: "AAAARRRGGGHHHH.... *cough hack* I hope we don't have to go to the hospital. I'm suffering. I love you. Can you get me a cool cloth for my head? It feels explody." How much LONGER? Am I going to be stuck at home forever?
How did this happen to me? I hate it when people don't cover their mouths or touch things. This is why I'm not going to EVER leave the apartment again. We need to stay home and away from germs!"
Me: "What about the girls? Won't they miss you"
MCS: "SIGH.... yes, but... but..."
Me: "You know, I warned you girls have cooties. I bet it was one of your girlfriends."
MCS: "Stoooopppp. I'm serious!
Me: "Well, I suppose we could become hermits, never leave the apartment, and just sit here TOGETHER forever, mother/son bonding and I can tell you stories about when I was a little girl and... "
MCS: "STOP! I get the point! That was too sarcastic and I think I my head will explode again."
Welcome to my world, son.
He's showing great improvement this evening, the grumbling and airing of grievances from his room will soon give way to sleep. In the past 48 hours, I have embedded the lingering scent of chicken soup and vapo-rub deep into my pores.
It should fend off the Mom Cold.