For seven long days my family and I have been quarantined in our cozy little home battling what would appear to be either the flu or some very serious colds. One by one each of the four kids came down with it and then finally I too became a victim. As any mother knows, it is just torturous watching your children when they are sick. It is worse when they are very small because they can’t really tell you what is wrong and therefore you have no certain answer as to what to do to comfort them. It is stressful emotionally and physically. You simply have to use a process of elimination until you find something miraculous that makes it all better. This is precisely why I am not sure whether to be furious or amused at my eldest son. After being confined to the house for a solid week and spending the majority of my time (day and night) fetching, carrying, washing, medicating, bathing, feeding, fussing, covering, uncovering, patting, singing, worrying (at times pretty sick myself), I’ll admit I am confused as to what would be the “appropriate” reaction to this latest… episode. Last night, when I left the room on what had to be the 15th errand for my ailing boy, he grinned a devilish ornery grin at his Granny and whispered “I am just pretending to be sick so my Mommy will be my slave.”.