So I have contracted some sort of fabulous hacking-up disease just in time for the holidays. I know exactly which child came to school ill because it was party day and gave the lovely germ to me, too! Maybe there should be a pop quiz or some other form of torture in said child's future.
In the midst of my pain, illness, and mental anguish, Lurch asks me, "Mom, are you ok?" My reply was "no, I am pretty sure I am dying" and he chirped up, "well, we still have time to get to Payless to get you some shoes!"
Ok, admittedly hilarious. Makes me mad though that his obviously inherited quick-wit comes through when I am in the process of expelling a vital organ (namely, a lung) through the writhing convulsions of my coughing fits.
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