I woke up with a cold this morning. Again. I have a terminally sick nose. After watching me use 4 tissues in a row, Jack looked at me with an assessing gaze. "You need a doctor," he proclaimed.
[Aside: Jack turned 3 last week and had his 3-year exam at the doctor's. Since then he has been very clinical.]
He retrieved his doctor's case from the playroom and trotted out to the couch where I was sitting. He dug through his various tools and finally selected the ones he needed. He listened to my ears and asked me to spit in a cup (no joke--and no, I didn't do it). After tapping my knees, giving me a peremptory shot, and making a quick phone call on his pager, he packed his stethoscope and thermometer away. "Well?" I asked him.
"You sick," he told me.
"What is it?" I asked him.
"Foot Stench," he announced and left the room. I guess I am too stinky, even for him.
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Hilarious! This had me roaring. Bill Cosby was right --they do say the darndest things! My Jack told me yesterday that I had "Sophie hairs" on my arms. Sophie is our black lab. Now I am so self consicous about my arm hair!
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