My 5-year-old is sick. Again. There isn’t enough Purell in the world to keep this kid healthy. His classmates were never taught to cover a sneeze or cough. Isn’t funny how other people’s kids disgust you? Oh, is that just me? Anyway, poor guy has a head cold. Tonight, just as I sank my head into the pillow, he had a coughing fit. So, I texted my husband to put Vicks Vapor Rub on his feet. Look, I don’t know if it’s an old wives tale, but with just about every children’s cold medicine recalled I will try anything. Yes, we were in the same house at the time. If I wanted to get up I would have done it myself. Texting has made it easier to boss my husband around. However, damn auto correct complicated matters. (or my husband is smarter than I thought)
ME: He is sick. He needs cocks.
(does this mean I use the word cocks so much that autocorrect chooses it as a substitute?)
HIM: Who? What?
ME: I mean Vick.
HIM: Who is Vick?
ME: Not Vick. Vicks.
HIM: Vick needs cocks? What the hell are you talking about?
ME: Vicks! In the closet.
HIM: I don’t care if Vick is in the closet. Who is he anyway?
ME: Not cocks. Vick’s. Vapor Rub.
HIM: I haven’t seen it.
ME: It is in the hallway closet. Go put it on his feet.
HIM: I don’t think it’s in there.
ME: Yes it is.
HIM: I think we ran out.
ME: Nevermind damn it! I will do it.