I’m not going to make a symptom list, because in so doing, I have an automatic assumption as to what I think we all have, and we probably have something very different.  I’ll just say that I put the girls in the tub healthy, and by the time I pulled them out, we were all the slippery slope to sick-town.  Sara will wake up healthy and ready to run a marathon.  Kelly and I will probably be less lucky, if history is any guide.  Honestly, I hope for it.  I hope to go to the doctor and have him say, “A-HA!  First WEEKS AND ENDLESS WEEKS OF DIARRHEA, and now THIS!  YES!  NOW I know what you have!  Swallow these magic beans, eat a Big Mac and you’ll be fine by dinner.”

Or really, any sentences that include words like, “…this will end eventually”, or “…you can eat cheese again”, or “…let me grab my magic medical wand and fix you immediately” or, “Nurse Cheryl will watch the girls while you sleep for 24 straight hours”….yes…any of those words would be comforting.

By the way, doesn’t Greg’s new header just ROCK THE PARTY?  If there were a party, which couldn’t be held in this germ-infested house that apparently gives perfectly healthy people an ambiguous list of symptoms that Google can’t diagnose (I hate you Google…I hate  you.  Go to Med School, you useless search engine.).