Mammy was sick last week.
Not sure if I mentioned that.
It wasn’t quite as bad as ManFlu. (Thank the Lord and the Little Donkey…)
But it did leave me festering in the same clothes for three days. Trackies and fluffy socks and serious coziness at all opportunites.
So much so, that when I turned up to collect Mini-Me from “afterschool” on Thursday, she eyed me suspiciously.
“Are you better Mammy?” she asked as I strapped her into the carseat.
“I’m feeling much better Darling.” I answered, shocked and chuffed in equal measure that she even knew I was sick. (At least somebody noticed…is that a violin I hear?)
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Mammy will be all better by the morning.”
“You’re NOT better Mammy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re still wearing your slipper socks under your runners, aren’t you Mammy?”
“Dat’s how I knows you’re not better yet.”
There you go then! Nothing to do with symptoms or temperature or medication… just look at my feet apparently. THAT’s how you know when I’m reeeeeally not well. 😂😂😂