"Well, your tonsils are a bit gunky so I'll give you something. Rest today. Drink plenty. And just make sure and don't be doing any deep kissing."
The doctor is talking to Daughter Number Two. I am in the room. She can see me. "Deep kissing?" I mutter to myself. "She's only 13."
You would think the doctor would take my feelings into account. She's signed up to protect and serve, hasn't she? [1]
But Daughter Number Two has got a boyfriend. I think. Though I'm not certain. I'm not privy to that kind of information. That's something mums know and not dads. I think. I'm not even certain about that. But I AM certain that I don't want to be thinking about "deep kissing".
"I'm going to sit on the sofa in my onesie and watch rubbish TV," Daughter Number Two tells me as we head back home. Neither of us mentioning the kissing thing. Thankfully.
"Lucky for some," I say. I've now got to go to work. I'd be happy to sit at home and watch rubbish TV. Then again, I don't have a onesie. [2]
She's not ill often, so it must be bad. All weekend she has been complaining of a sore throat, swollen glands, slight down-in-the-dumpness. It's so bad she even asks for a cup of tea. And she never asks for tea. She doesn't like it. (Hard to believe, I know. Are we biologically related?)
"I can't swallow," she has been telling us. Constantly.
It hasn't stopped her talking though. When she's not complaining about her throat, she's been on her phone all day Saturday and Sunday.
"Is she talking to her boyfriend?" I ask J.
"Think so."
"So, she has a boyfriend."
"Hmm." J doesn't seem to think this is a big deal.
Later I hear Daughter Number Two laughing through the wall. It is quite late. This, I think, is why I can never get a hold of the phone charger. [3] She's needing constant top-ups.
"She should give her throat a rest," I think but don't say.
Then again, I like the fact there's one person in the house who's talkative. Because I fail abysmally on that score. Even with a sore throat she says more in a day than I do.
Anyway, where were we? Oh yes. Monday morning. GP. Then chemist. I queue up to get her medicine. She's off home to the telly. If she's lucky – more lucky than I've ever been – her sister might even make her a cup of tea.
"Oh well," I think. "At least I don't have to worry about her kissing anyone in the near future. That's some consolation."
It's only then that it occurs to me how she might have got this lurgy in the first place.
[1] Hold on. Am I getting the Hippocratic Oath mixed up with something else?
[2] Don't all be rushing to buy me one for Christmas, OK? Especially not a Christmas reindeer one.
[3] Does anyone else find Apple phone chargers stop working?
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