The kids have been sick all this week. Since I work from home and my wife doesn’t, I’ve been the one who gets to be the day-nurse.

Tuesday was the toughest. Both the kids were running triple-digit fevers, and I was still under the delusion that I could get some work done while I took care of them. When lunchtime rolled around, I cooked a hot dog for the oldest and a piece of toast with apple sauce on it for the little guy.

I laid lunch out on the table and rustled them up from their couches.

“No Daddy,” my five year old moaned. “I can’t. I’m too cold.”

“But it’s toast with apple sauce,” I said. He loves toast with apple sauce on it when he’s sick.

“I know,” he shivered. “But I’m so cold!”

Fortunately, we have a good solution for that here in Florida. I opened the back door and moved the plates to a table on the porch. “There,” I said. “We won’t be cold out there.”

He laughed, his older brother cheered, and we settled down to our lunch outside.

A few minutes in, I noticed the little guy wasn’t eating his toast. “Hey,” I said. “You have to eat. You need the energy.”

“I can’t,” he whined. “I’m sick. I can’t eat when I’m sick.”

“It’s not that kind of sick,” I said. “Your tummy’s not sick. You need to eat.”

“Remember?” he asked. “Remember last time?”

The last time he was sick, I forced him to eat and he threw up all over the place. “Yeah,” I said. “But this isn’t like that. I didn’t know you were sick then, and that was a tummy sickness.”

He picked up his piece of toast and took a hesitant little bite.

“Aw come on,” I said. “That’s not a bite! Let’s see a real bite!”

He laughed nervously, took a bigger bite, chewed – and threw up violently all over the porch.

Whoops.

“See,” his bigger brother said. “He told you he was sick!”

Yeah, I got it big guy. I got it.