“Would you grab the thermometer?” asked my wife. I’d just arrived home from work. Friday afternoons usually had a way of projecting excitement and anticipation, but not this one. I set down my laptop bag and surveyed the living room. Two girls on the couch, one on the armchair. This is isn’t good.
I stepped just to the inside of the kitchen and pulled open the drawer. “Let’s go ahead and check all of them,” my wife suggested. I grabbed the no-touch infrared digital forehead thermometer and gently pushed the drawer closed. Now wielding the digital truth-teller, I approached my oldest daughter draped wearily in the armchair with her Harry Potter book.
Next, I tiptoed through the colored blocks and miniature Scooby Doo figurines over to the couch to the second daughter.
Sighing, now it was time to check the baby.
I reported out these temperatures to my wife. She nodded and coughed gently, blowing her nose quietly into a tissue. Looks like I’m not going to Saturday Reunion, I thought. Family comes first.