You can lead a horse to Theraflu, but you cannot make him drink.

 (Or make her drink, as is the case with my horse.) 

(Or, if I'm being completely precise, as is the case with my daughter.)

My daughter hates Theraflu with as much passion as I hate cleaning bathrooms. She won't even let the vile substance enter her holy temple of a body, even if she's coughing like a maniac. 

But no matter, Theraflu only works on that sissy flu bug anyway. If your lungs start flirting with those nasty pneumonia viruses or infectious bronchial bacteria, it's pointless, even hypocritical, to drink Theraflu. And don't bother rubbing Vicks on your feet either (no matter how emphatically I bear my testimony of it's truthfulness). Cough drops, hot baths, humidifiers and inhalers don't have a chance against those bad boys either. And forget about drinking Q-tussin, or herbal tea or saimin soup or home-made banana smoothies laced with orange honey.

Even if you pull out the big guns, Promethazine with Codeine, and threaten to blow your daughter's hacker assailant into the next century, it will do you little good.

(Unless you have a Zpac to back it up.) 

It's just so much better not to let your lungs hang out with the wrong crowd in the first place.

That's what I always say.

I told my daughter, "If your lungs had just remembered who they are and what they stand for none of this ever would have happened!"

That being said, I'm a tad bit melancholy now that her lungs have gone through the repentance process and she's back in school. 

Is it bad that I enjoyed pretending we were the Gilmore girls--just the two of us watching the America's Next Top Model cycle 12 marathon and 27 Dresses and making magic soup and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream by the fire? 

I hope you don't get the wrong idea. It wasn't all fun and games. I did accomplish a few things while my daughter's lungs were receiving redemption. I took down the Christmas tree. 

Which means Christmas is officially over. 

In other words, the long and dreary winter has officially begun. 

In other words, the winter of my discontent starts NOW.

Bring on the discontent and depression, Mr. Universe! 

I double dog dare you!

(Probly shouldn't be tempting fate like that, huh?)

Anyways, I can't believe I never showed you my Hawaiian Christmas tree before I took it down!!! 

But I really can't think about that today.  I'll think about that tomorrow.  

After all, tomorrow is another day . . .