Ella and Trish have been battling colds, with runny noses and sneezing.

I do that all the time, but I have allergies.

Tonight, after a particularly hard sneeze, Ella said, “these allergies are killing me! They’re just killing me.”

Right. Wonder where she got that.

Then she applied her not-yet 3-year-old logic: “I don’t know why they’re killing me. They just are for one reason.”

…………………………………………………

Monday was my birthday. I took the day off from work to have fun with Ella.

At 8:30 my doctor called me. I had been to see her last week and she suggested I might have celiac disease. Yeesh. Happy freakin birthday.

Tonight I was updating Trish on my communications with my doctor (who really is swell). The disease is genetic, and they’ve scheduled me for a biopsy next week. So, I’m standing behind Ella and I say, “if it’s positive, she’s next,” and I pointed at Ella, because a good dad is supposed to hide things from his kid, right?

Trish said, “you mean they’ll start her with blood work?”

Ella cocked her head. Blood work. That means doctor. What else could it mean?

“Uh, yeah, they’ll start blood work on Abby (the dog),” and changed the subject.

An hour later, Ella asked me, “Dad, why are you going to give Abby medicine?”

Man. I thought I’d dodged one. I can’t outsmart my kid. So, like a good dad, I lied again.

………………………………………………………..

Last week Ella said, “I don’t like her,” when she was talking about the lady who cut her hair.

So, Ella cut it herself. She whacked off the front of her hair, into bangs, the part that Trish was trying to grow out.

“I had to let it go,” Trish said. “I just had to let it go.”

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