We’ve Got the Fever. Or the Lurgy.

Boobaby had a fever for about 24 hours — the worst it got was 101°F (38.3°C for the rest of the world), and Tylenol (“paracetamol” for you Brits) brought down the worst of it. She’s been extremely irritable (Brit: “brassed off”) and unhappy (Brit: “whinging”), so we even let her watch a little Elmo (Brit: “Cherie Blair”) on my iPod (Brit: “wee Apple telly”). Thank goodness my wife (Brit: “cart horse”) took the day off work (Brit: “bodged her gaffer”) to take care of both of us.

Boo seems better (Brit: “ace”) now and finally sat down to a bowl of Cheerios (Brit: “goodbyes”) last night. But I have had very little (Brit: “bugger all”) sleep, which I suppose explains the pathetic (Brit: “all at sixes and sevens”) attempt at humor (Brit: “What am I on about?”), which is essentially here to entertain one Anglophile (Brit: “Blighty-snogging”) friend (Brit: “slag”) of mine.

So I’m just going to leave it at that. Bob’s your uncle.