Apparently, I Am Eight

Fact #1: Children are germy.
Fact #2: They like to share with their teachers.

A few weeks ago, one of my little "cherubs" decided to share the virus he was carrying around. So, of course, I came down with whatever bug it was. My mother noticed the change in my voice right away (I sound like Lauren Bacall or Kathleen Turner when I'm sick - it's fun -too bad I feel like crap). Which brings me to:

Fact #3: I may have a mortgage, but to my mother I will always be eight.

Our conversation went something like this:
Oh dear, you sound horrible.
I'm okay, I sound worse than I feel.
Have you been to the doctor?
It's a virus, he can't give me antibiotics for it.
Well you know, (Oh Lord, I'm in trouble here!) I think the old-fashioned remedies are the best ones.
Uh-huh.
You should get some Vicks and rub it on your chest. Then you need to get a towel and wrap it around your neck--
Mom? You taught me how to do that when I was a kid. I've been doing that since I was seven.
But you really need to rub it into your chest and then don't forget to safety pin the--
Mom? I'm forty-one!
Chuckle...You really need to drink hot water with lemon and--
Forty-one, ma! Forty-one...sigh...I'm always going to be your baby, aren't I?
Of course! Now get a lot of rest and don't go out.
I love you too, Mom.