There's a lot to be said about the power of positive thinking. It really puts things into perspective. Just look at this week. Himself has the flu, both cars broke down, and Junior has decided that sippies are best kept in the fish tank. I am dealing with these things with positive thinking.
Namely, that I think I will positively go nuts very soon.
On the plus side, one car is working now, and Junior has learned a new sentence.
"Da fishies can not have da sippy."
Himself still has the flu, unfortunately. Back to the positive thinking, I'm pretty sure he's on the mend. He has gone from stoic head-of-the-house to total whiny-butt. You probably know someone like this. For the first week, he gamely ignored his nearly-103 temperature and tried to go about his business. I pestered him to take care of himself.
"I don't feel so good."
"That's because you have a fever. Why don't you take a nap?"
"But I have to go to work!"
"You. Deliver. Food. You can NOT go to work because I'm pretty sure you have the flu."
For several days, he complied with my instructions. He napped, drank lots of fluids, and generally kept to himself. Now that the corner is about to be turned, he's decided that arguing is the best medicine. My daily tasks are accompanied by a Greek chorus of pouting.
"I don't feel good. My head hurts. It's cold in here. I'm thirsty. I don't know why I feel so yucky."
"I know, Hon. You have the flu and it sucks. Let me get you some orange juice."
"I have to get up. I need to mow the lawn. My stomach hurts. It's too hot in here."
"No, you have to take a nap. You have the flu."
"I don't wanna take a nap. I don't feel good. How come it's so cold in here?"
We went on in this vein for what seemed like ten years. He would complain, I would try to soothe. He would grumble, I would cajole. He questioned every single thing I said. Finally, I drew on the concept of positive thinking, and positively snapped.
"YOU HAVE THE FLU. YOU FEEL LIKE CRUD. YOU WILL NOT MOW THE LAWN. YOU WILL SLEEP AND DRINK FLUIDS AND TAKE YOUR MEDICINE."
He sulked, then accepted his lot and burrowed under the covers and rolled over. As I was leaving the room, I heard his parting shot of defiance.
"That medicine is nasty. I don't want any more."
Deciding against offering his next dose as an enema, I left him to his nap. He's looking better today, eating chicken soup and watching Jack Benny. He even asked for ice cream, which definitely counts as a good sign. Yeah, this positive thinking is a good way to look at things. Marriage, for example. I'm positive that I love him, or he wouldn't drive me half so nuts.
Now if you'll excuse me, there's someone who positively wants me to help him open the "stwing cheese".