Excerpts from a regular evening

*I'm sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt, a pile of kleenex surrounds me as I fight off the sickness that is sweeping the state. My nose is full, my chest is heavy, my head could float away at any moment. My walking boot (for the broken ankle) is laying next to me, my foot is propped up on a pillow.

Bryan is on daddy duty tonight; I'm sick and as he's leaving for week-two of being out of town Tuesday, I've clocked out and am letting him be a single parent for the evening.

*I'm watching the Olympics on the Jumbotron (a monstrosity my husband purchased before we were married and that I usually make fun of;)
I must admit while this thing is obscene and huge, during events such as this, it is really nice see it life-size. It's almost like I'm there.

*E. is running around, bringing me little people. I currently have in my lap a giraffe, a zebra, and two school children. At my feet are the school bus and the mini van that Mamaw bought her during the visit.

*On his way outside with the recycling, Bryan slipped his foot inside his crocs, only to have to stop when he discovered a ball stuffed inside the toe.

*E. just grabbed my walking boot, dropped it on the floor and said "uh oh!" Then looked up at me with an impish grin. This was followed by dropping each little people toy, one at a time, with "uh oh." I think we've mastered the "uh-oh" concept.

*Watching the women's rowing finals, I think the person in front of the boat, (the caller, I think she is called?...correction: she is called a coxswain, thanks Scout's honor) I wonder how she got her job, barking out orders at everyone else while they do all the work.

*I'm coughing quite a bit, what with all the sickness. But somehow, I have an echo. Every time I cough, E. also coughs, a little tiny fake cough. She's currently sitting on the floor playing with her little people (the one's she dropped on the floor earlier,) and every time I cough, she, without looking up, makes a little "eck, eck, eck" sound. When finished with her cough, she looks up at me with a grin.

*Bryan just told E. that it is bedtime, she looked at him and shook her head "no" vigorously, and then ran the opposite direction. He removed the gate from the bottom of the stairs and she stood there with her thumb in her mouth, still shaking her head "no," but no longer running away. Protest she may, but it is obvious she is tired.