A gentle beep is to let me know that the thermometer has finished reading my son's temperature.
By now it's like a standardized procedure in this house. Is it round six that we're doing this winter? Seven? Something like that. We've pretty much gone straight since... April: one virus, get better, another virus, get better, a third virus, get better.
This week we're on round seven I think, or six.
If I didn't have a friend whose children are doing the exact same thing, I would wonder if I am doing something wrong that they're doing such back to back illnesses this year, but every time I bring that up our preschool teacher reminds me that it is a notoriously hard winter this year and the viruses are hitting our preschool hard, and the primary school, too, where many of the children's siblings go.
It's... spectacular, actually, to have him down again, because every time he's ill I think that's the end of it - but it's not.
Today I had a brief chat with our neighbor over the fence. She said, "Well, let's hope that's the end of it then!" to which I replied, "I wouldn't hold your breath if I were you."
We laughed, both of us. She knows what I mean. Both of our children have been... let's call it, working hard on building and testing out their immune system and its response this winter, and so by now we're used to canceling playdates because either mine are ill, or hers, and it's, like... yeah.