Dire rear

Our sprog attends a creche during the day. The thing about these places is that they are little more than glorified petri dishes (but with slightly better press). A cultural melting-pot for disease, if you will. One of the more exciting aspects of having a baby or toddler in a creche is that you get to experience all sorts of exotic illnesses first hand.

The sprog recently brought home a rather nasty viral form of the green apple sickness and promptly passed it on to my wife and I. Talk about a severe version of “It followed me home. Please can’t I keep it? Huh? Huh? Please?”.

Our lives have therefore become rather episodic, with periods of extreme lethargy punctuated with stomach cramps and furious high-speed visits to the facilities. Fortunately, our internal mechanisms are not syncronised, so we haven’t had to play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to go first.

My company is insisting that I go to a water-related symposium this coming Saturday, so I’m really looking forward to spreading my malady to as many of the other delegates as possible. I am hoping to achieve fame as the Typhoid Mary of the gastro world. ‘Diarrhoea Maria’ has a nice ring to it, so watch the newspapers closely. My new motto: don’t just be a sufferer if you can be vector, too.

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