The Best Medicine

On Saturday, I began having a very suspicous, vicious, deep-down cough. On Sunday, I had the fluey, don't-touch-me, hurting-all-over muscle aches. The next few days brought chest congestion, wheezing, coughing, trouble breathing, sneezing, a runny nose, headaches, sinus pressure, sweating, and a general constant throbbing of my entire head. I've been heading home a bit early each day from work, and even though I was capable of physically driving to SuperTarget myself to get stuff, Michael offered to do it for me on Tuesday.

"What can I pick up for you?" he asked.

"Kleenex with lotion," I said, congested and in my best pathetic, pouty-whimper voice.

"Anything else?"

"Uh-huh. More Kleenex with lotion, and then some more after that."

Michael arrived with a bag full of stuff: plenty of boxes of Kleenex with lotion; another NettiePot; a bag of Halls lozenges; a bottom-drawer-of-fridge-full of SoBe drinks; Milano cookies; a bunch of yellow tulilps; and a card. I love my husband.

I also love my kid, who sat quietly playing in my lap, so content, as if he knew I wasn't in the best shape to entertain. As I pulled the items out of the bag, he adopted them as new toys.

And then, as if he was 10 years old, he took the get-well card out of the bag, looked up into my face, and handed it to me.

And just like that, I'm practically good as new.