Mums can't get sick. And people who work for themselves can't either. Looks like I broke both of those rules this week, picking up a dodgy virus that my youngest brought home from playgroup. No cause for alarm, people! I'm soldiering on, as you do...
At the breakfast table this morning, I'm picking pathetically at yet another bowl of plain white rice washed down with rehydration solution when my eldest comes up to me, flings his arms around my neck and says "Mummy, I'm really worried about you being so poorly". Awwwww.
My youngest, never one to miss a cuddle opportunity, follows suit: "Mummy, I'm weally wuwwied about you being so poorly".
So here I am, with two adorable little guys hanging off my neck, feeling like crap but knowing I'll somehow meet the 5 or 6 deadlines I've got this week. Because it's the little moments like this that get you through.
OK, now cue a whole stream of sympathy comments... Mum? Mum? Hello?