Poorly boys

Both of the male members of the household are poorly tonight. T has been ill on and off for a couple of weeks now, a chest infection, tonsilitis, stinky cold and teething thrown in and it's obviously caught up with him. During his bath with Daddy T snuggled into his tummy, closed his eyes and started to snore. You know it's serious when even the beloved Teletubby Bath Island, its inhabitants carried around the house, can't rescue him from the land of nod. A quick dry and feed and he went straight to sleep. At 6.45 pm. This is unheard of. I have no idea what sort of night awaits me. I'm taking bets on him waking up at 10.30 pm, just as I go to bed (it's a school night you know) and refusing to go back to sleep, or having his usual disturbed night but rousing for the day at 4.30 am.

My husband has a dicky tummy. It must be bad as not only has he gone to bed with T, he's called in sick for tomorrow. Having an anti-social job, starting his day a clear couple of hours before most people's alarms go off, he doesn't have the luxury of being able to wake up and pull a sickie. Sometimes this works in his advantage, having been at death's door at 7 pm but much better the following morning once his shift has already been covered. Being much more conscientious than I however, in those circumstances he'd usually rock in anyway, providing an extra pair of hands. Sickening eh?

So left alone since 6.50 pm, I have no idea what to do with myself! Where is the little hand pulling the charger out of the Macbook ('don't put that in your mouth!') or the person arguing that he wants to watch the football rather than last nights Lipstick Jungle on Sky+? In the circumstances I have gone for the only options available to me. Eating a whole tube of stinky cheese and onion Pringles, internet shopping (the husband would have vetoed the cute dinosaur bobble hat, even if it is for T rather than him!) and that old episode of Property Ladder on More4. You know the one, where the sisters go haywire and spend thousands on a pastel kitchen and extortionate psychedelic tiles for the downstairs loo in the gorgeous Art Deco house? Brilliant!