The way things are

So it would seem that the bug I'm getting over, has found new lodgings in the Mother of Last Year (unfortunately the title of Mother of the Year is floating, and until proven otherwise, a temporary title will be used).

 The man was complaining of the all too familiar sore throat, blocked head and aching joints, when I stirred up a great concoction of vitamin C and anti-inflammatories to wash his malaise away. I held out the potion, and the whining started.

"I don't want all that stuff. I don't need it."

"Don't question me," I said, all maternal-like, "I am a nurse, you know."

"Really?" he said, eyebrows raised, taunting.

"Daddy," T-Bird interjected. "Mommy really is a nurse. Or she used to be a nurse."

A moment passed where we all exchanged glances.

"Mommy is a nurse who stays at home," she declared after a little thinking.

I nodded triumphantly at her father and shoved the medication into his hand.

"...and who goes shopping."

So much for victory lasting for any decent length of time.

PS. And it's not true, by the way. I do a lot of other stuff too.