So when I caught a cold from my dental hygienist (who really should know better than to come to work sick, what with a job title that suggests hygiene and all) recently, I was hoping that Westley would be able to dodge another germ bullet. Alas, no. We've been living in la casa de illness for a while now, and I think everyone has taken a turn. Westley probably would have had an easier time of it if his system hadn't been working on vaccines right when I brought home the cold. Rob has work stress which lead to a minor stomach bug, followed by a major allergy attack. Even the grandparents got in on the illness action. We all sound terrible, and there are tissues everywhere.
But we're all on the mend. Mercifully, Westley had the easiest time being sick, and got over his cold almost immediately. He had no trouble with his breathing (and, therefore, no trouble eating), and after a couple days of feeling sorta-kinda miserable, he was ready to get back to his regular propelling-himself-by-rolling-across-the-floor routine. Par-tay! I celebrated my near-recovery by having more dental work done today. Different dentist, different hygienist. I sincerely hope I didn't bring home any new germs.
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