Typhoid Da-da (or, "Advice for New Parents")

Germs! They're what's for dinner.

Da-da is hardly one to offer anyone advice because he keeps doing everything wrong. Making repeated mistakes is inevitable in regards to parenting (and is, in fact, a time-honored tradition). Why? Because your memory is the first to go. Over the years, lack of sleep, saying the same things over and over again, cleaning the same things over and over again, saying the same things over and over again while cleaning the same things over and over again... this stuff really takes a toll.

Case in point: last night was corn dogs for the kids and leftover spaghetti and meatballs for Ma-ma; Da-da wasn't that hungry (because he's about two steps from shuffling off his mortal coil), so he served as chef, maitre'd, referee and indentured servant, as usual. And as usual, seeing what Ma-ma's eating made both boys want it, too (despite their maddening inability to eat leftovers). Whatever. After the meal, Da-da noticed that his oldest, Nagurski, had not eaten that much of his spaghetti and meatballs, opting for other elements of the meal. Da-da's early warning system kicked in and he started to take the food to the trash... then thought, Well, he's hardly touched it, accompanied by that internecine race-memory phrase whispered in Da-da's mind by countless ghost mothers across the eons: IT WOULD BE A SHAME TO WASTE THAT.

Yup. You guessed it. Da-da woke up sick this morning.

Note to new and future parents: small children are scale models of the Center for Disease Control (CDC), but without the control. Even though Da-da's sons aren't sick, they're carriers for every preschool and elementary microorganism beastie lurking about for an unsuspecting mammalian digestive tract or mucous membrane.

So, Lesson 492: Don't Eat Your Kid's Food.

Ug. Da-da's GORGON cold medicine is... turning... him... to... stone...


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