We are sick. By "we" I mean the little ones and me. Brian doesn't have what we have...yet. I'm just waiting for him to wake up one morning yelling because I gave him cooties. I know it's not nice to laugh at someone when they're sick, but it's seriously funny when Brian gets sick.
When the boys get sick they still run around like little bunnies bouncing off the walls until every ounce of energy is spent. Only then do they crawl in my lap and beg for me to rub their back or tummies.
When I'm sick, I still have to get up when they get up. Make breakfast, do the dishes, mow the lawn, play outside, blah, blah. I don't get to call in sick. There's no such thing as "sick days" for mommies. Nope. Not in the job description. I checked, twice.
But if Brian gets sick the world must stop. Hold the phone, big daddy needs a tissue. He gets to stay home from work, sleep all day, tell the kids they have to be quiet because daddy doesn't feel good and I get to go get him medicine. Big sissy.