I am sick yet again. You should pity me. I blame it on the crazy Virginia weather, and also on the school children that populate my house with every virus known to man.
But, as bad as I have it, Ella, poor Ella, always seems to have it worse. Or so she says. Here is a conversation between me and Ella that will probably not ever fail to make me smile:
Me: Oh Ella, my head hurts.
Ella: Oh, my legs hurt. And my hair hurts.
Me: Your hair doesn’t have nerve endings…it can’t hurt, honey.
Ella: It DOES. Oh, my hair is KILLING me.
Me: Ella, you make me happy.
Ella: I know.
She is something else.