I’ve been coughing a lot the last two weeks, fighting off some nasty bronchial infection. The kids, of course, have been aware of me being sick, but it hasn’t slowed them down very much.

This morning, however, my oldest decided he really didn’t want to exercise (as we do every morning). As we were finishing up our waffles, he coughed experimentally into his hand.

“My throat really hurts, daddy. I think I have strep throat.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

My wife was quicker. “Oh, too bad. I guess that means no trick-or-treating tonight.”

The little guy’s head whipped around. “What?”

“She’s right,” I chimed in. “If you’re sick, you can’t go out trick or treating. Instead, you’ll have to stay home in bed.”

“But what if I got better before then?”

“Don’t pretend that you’re sick, big guy,” I said.

“Because then we won’t know when you really are,” his mom added.

He slumped in his chair. “Okay. My throat is fine.”

We thought so.