So we’re playing volleyball in the pool yesterday–and I’ve got a MISERABLE cold going on–and my daughter, the slightly competitive little ghoul keeps shouting “Send it to the weakest link!  Send it to the weakest link!”

Through my medicine-induced haze I finally realize she’s talking about ME.

When I am well, when my nose isn’t streaming and raw and the back of my throat isn’t itchy and on fire, she’s going to get it.  I AM NOT and REFUSE TO BE the weakest link.