Man Sickness

It is in our house. 

THE MAN SICKNESS.

Joe has it. And I know you all know what I am talking about. 

And I hate Man Sickiness (yes, it does need to be capitalized). I want to beat it with a stick. But, then I would be beating my own husband. So that sort of defeats the purpose, huh? 

So, I am forced to nurse and comfort it and welcome it into my own. Which sounds contradictory to me. I soothe the man sickness, boost up it's self-esteem, and tell it "Hey, it was nice for you to come by and stay awhile. Come back and visit some time!" Like really, how does that make sense?

Now you understand the stick idea, huh? Doesn't sound too strange now, does it?

Well, anyways, Joe has man sickness (no longer needs to be capitalized). And this is the conversation that took place while we were driving home:

*Mary is driving and Joe is in the passenger seat*

Joe: *mumbles mailbox*

Mary: What?

Joe: Mailbox.

Mary: *Thinks, I am not that close to the mailboxes...* Oh, ok.

Joe: It's moving.

Mary: *Looks around and see's that a few cars in front of us a mail truck dropping off mail to each mail box* Oh, mail TRUCK. Thanks.

Yes. Man Sickness. Striking fear in the hearts of wives everywhere.

So, until then- I will be dreaming on days filled with healthy husbands and daughters.

See? Healthy! All smiles. 

Such a good daddy.

The End.