May 5th was my son’s 5th birthday and what would have been my father’s 81st.

Sam: “Mom, it’s so cool that I have the same birthday as Pop-Pop.”

Me: “It really is.”

Sam: “But I don’t have to send him a card, right? Because he’s dead.”

Me: “Nope.” Sam: “But maybe I can and he’ll get it wherever he is. I bet he’s somewhere, looking at sculptures.”

Me: “I bet he is too.”

I realize that some people think I edit or rewrite Sam’s words to make him seem more sweet than he actually is.  And I’m here to tell you: He really is that sweet. (But, like his mother, he never actually did do a card. He and I are big on the sentiment, terrible on the follow-through.)

Because I am up to my eyeballs in thank you cards / work / life since Dad died, I invited a small crew of friends over for a low-key party with pizza and cake. It was really, really nice. And the kids seemed to have a good time even if there wasn’t “entertainment” or goodie bags at the end (all the “entertainment” kids seem to really need is permission to let loose inside one’s home / yard).

But here’s the bad news: Today, Sam was diagnosed with strep. I’m sure he had it on Saturday. And maybe even on Friday, the day of his party. So I had to send an email to everyone who came stating that if they start developing symptoms, they should go to the doctor.

Please know that in addition to this, on Thursday, I kept Kit home for dual conjunctivitis.

At this point, I am 85% sure the CDC is  monitoring my emails as my family seems to be ground zero for communicable diseases.

I’m currently writing this with a sore throat so I’m pretty sure I too have strep. Luckily, Nat didn’t finish his last round of antibiotics from a few weeks ago when we all had strep together (it’s really is such a beautiful time, this era of our lives), so I started taking his leftover pills today (I know, I know. It’s terrible. This is how zombie plagues start but visits to Urgent Care are bleeding us dry. Plus, I HAVE to work this week and can’t take off for a doctor’s appointment. I just took off 3 weeks for the whole dead-dad thing.)

Kids, man. So sweet. So awesome. Such vectors for disease.