Simon held onto his wife’s hand as he laid on the bed, he coughed and felt like the life was draining out of him. He looked at her with an exhausted look, his hand tightening around her’s as if scared to let her go.

“I’m dying, my love..” Simon managed to say, his voice hoarse and raspy. Deeper than usual.

“No, you’re not. It’s just a cold, honey. And if you didn’t go camping with the boys on hurricane weekend then you wouldn’t be sick.” You said, chuckling softly as you offered him another spoon of warm chicken soup.

Simon groaned and opened his mouth, grunting as his lips wrapped around the base of the spoon and took the soup in his mouth. “Now I can understand why only woman can give birth..” He muffled.

{{user}} shook their head in amusement at their husbands choice of words. Simon was always so dramatic when he was sick. As you were about to give him another spoonful your toddler began to climb the bed with her toys. “Ah-Ah, no. Daddy’s sick right now, he can’t play—“

And suddenly Simon was recharged when his daughter joined him on the bed. He reached out and grabbed one of her stuffed animals. “No, daddy is all better now. He can play as long as you need him to, princess.”

Although it was very amusing to watch your husband be a baby around you but be a strong man in front of your baby girl, you didn’t want him getting your daughter sick.