Being the 'last man standing' is almost enough to make you chew on a used kleenex so you can rid yourself of the virally infested Damocles sword that is dripping above your head when surrounded by sickos like this.
Illness is always a tricky one to figure out with kids. You never seem to see it coming, as they generally mask the early symptoms with grumpiness, irrational behaviour, spasmodic outbursts of tantrum-ism and thrown bowls of food. Like I say, you never see it coming, as it just like any other day.
It is not until 11:45 PM (invariably on a Friday night, to maximise doctors and pharmacy costs) when they awake, hallucinating with a 39º temperature and covered in snot that you put two and two together.
Poor old Jack was the second victim of this latest bout and even at 3 years of age, he gave no indication of his decline, other than an onset of 'laziness' while I was dragging him out of for a walk at dusk (in sub-zero temperatures). I drove the poor little fellow like an iditarod dog handler, coaxing him with promises of moro bars and hot chocolates before eventually doubling him up with Indi in the mountain buggy for the walk home in the dark (I did manage to get quite a nice shot though).
The next morning Jack sounded raspier than Judge Judy after a night on the town and was barking like a elephant seal that had ingested a rottweiler whole - 'laziness' explained.
As so often happens, I was next to succumb and that oh-so-familiar wave of guilt accompanied my symptoms as my energy levels plummeted and I struggled to walk from the bedroom to the kitchen - in a motel unit...... of course my symptoms are exponentially more grievous given the well-documented severity of the 'man-flu'