Normally, I look forward to Saturdays.  It’s the day the boys usually help me deliver newspapers.  I get a bit of a break from walking and I get to enjoy the company of D and P.  I drop them off at starting points and pick them up at finishing points and in between we ham it up with delivery stories that I suspect will one day be passed on as “horror” stories of when they were young.  We laugh a lot and usually celebrate the end of the fun with a lunch out at some fast food restaurant.  D and P never say “no” to that and always seem appreciative that I would pay them for delivering and take them out to eat.  Normally, I really enjoy the time I get with them.

Today was different.  P called me from school yesterday asking to be picked up; he wasn’t feeling well.  He was white as a ghost when I got to Ardtrea and crawled into bed as soon as I got him home.  D came home on the bus but announced as soon as he entered the door that he wasn’t feeling well either.  Very uncharacteristically, he didn’t jump at the chance to get on the computer or watch TV.  There were no science experiments or BB gun target practices either.  He quietly stole upstairs, closed the door of his bedroom and presumably joined his brother in the Land of Nod.  They emerged around dinnertime but both declared they weren’t up to eating.   They sat in front of the television, pale shadows of their usual selves, and without even being asked found their way back to their beds early in the evening.

Both got up to tell me that they were sorry but they didn’t think they could help me deliver today.  So off I went by myself.  The weather was pleasant enough and there were no problems to report but it wasn’t the same without my boisterous boys helping out.  I missed them and all the laughter they bring to an otherwise mundane job.  Let’s hope that there aren’t too many weekends where they are under the weather.

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