The Boy has had a bad cough lately. We had it checked and turns out he's either got bronchitis or walking pneumonia. He's on medicine to knock out the infection and hopefully he'll feel better when we leave later this week to go to Florida (another business trip for me; alas, no movies).
Last week I'd noticed a few nights in a row that he was running a fever around bed-time. One afternoon around supper time he complained to me that he wasn't feeling very good, gave instructions to take his temperature (to see how sick he was) and presented his own diagnosis.
Boy: I think I have the chicken pops.
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