the one where I continue to complain about my immune system or lack thereof

If there's a virus out there - even just a little, tiny, innocuous one that most people's immune systems just laugh at - well, I'm going to catch it and it's going to make me ill.

So, what happens is, Drew goes to daycare, and, like most babies in daycare, he picks up whatever plague is currently circulating there and he brings it home, much like a cat dragging an eviscerated bird carcass to my doorstep.

And then I catch it and then I'm a miserable, coughing, sneezing wreck for the next seven to 10 days. So I go to the doctor, where I'm told that it's a virus, and as such, there's nothing I can do except "treat the symptoms" and wait for it to go away.

Then I tell my mother about my doctor's visit, and she proceeds to complain about the fact that they didn't prescribe me an antibiotic.

"Mooo-ooom...it's a virus," I say. "Antibiotics are for bacterial infections."

"Well, I don't care," she responds. "I still think you should take an antibiotic."

I think Mom thinks antibiotics will cure everything from the common cold to cancer. Maybe she's right. But these doctors won't give me anything for my misery except a $20 co-pay.

So, that's why I haven't written anything in the past week and a half or so.

This morning, Drew awakened his father by cooing, "Ohhhh, dadadadada" at him. I'm not sure if he knew what he was saying or if he was just babbling a string of neat-sounding consonants, but it made Charles very happy, especially since Drew hasn't really come out with anything resembling "mama" yet. The closest he's come is something that sounds like "aaaahhmmmm."

"I knew he loved me best," Charles said.

Also, this week Drew has started sitting up on his own. He won't actually pull himself to a sitting position yet, but if you place him upright on his butt, he'll stay there for a while.

Actually, he'll stay there until he gets really excited about something - the cat, a dust bunny, whatever - at which point he starts flailing his arms about, loses his balance and topples over onto his side. It's more fun than watching a drunk try to dance.

Charles has "misplaced" (i.e. lost) the digital camera, so when I convince him to remember where he put it, we'll take some pictures of the fabulous upright Drew and post them.

Stay tuned!