The plague is slowly working its’ way through our house. Sarah was the first to spike the fever that never ends and sleep like Rip Van Winkle. The only sign remaining that she was sick is her hacking cough and crotchety disposition. Now it’s Evan’s turn. His fever peaks in the wee hours of the night and I hold him close, trying to will the fever out of his body. Amy and Noah ignore my pleas to give Evan a wide berth. Noah has to hug Evan every time he walks past him. During the breaks in the fever, Evan will be calmly playing with toys and Noah will still feel compelled to give Evan a worried hug. “No hugs. I busy.” Within ten minutes, Noah will be hugging Evan again. Amy is just as determined to be the next sick person. If Evan is playing, she is two inches from his face – quizzing him. “How do you feel NOW?” “I fine.” “No. You are SICK!” At least she is more compassionate during his feverish times. She brings him stuffed animal after stuffed animal. This would be fine except that as mentioned earlier, I hold Evan whenever his fever is high. It’s very difficult to hold a dozen furry toys when you are also holding a human heating pad who is talking about sharks biting him.