Two of my daughters were getting sick, you see, but we didn't know it at
the time. This is Item #374 on the list of things they should teach you in
parenting school but don't: the first sign that your child has a cold is
that for 24 hours you're convinced you have utterly failed as a parent. They
don't sneeze or cough or anything. They just leave for school as themselves
and return as Veruca Salt.

"Hello, Doctor? Something is up with my daughter today. She hates me and
all that is right and just."

"She's probably teething."

"She's eleven."

"Oh, she's got a cold coming on then. We meant to warn you about those
symptoms earlier. Two teaspoons of vomit-flavored Motrin should do the trick."

"What if you're wrong, Doctor? What if I have utterly failed as a parent?
I've spoiled her. I've spared the rod. And I let her go to that sleepover
last Saturday."

"Well, it's also possible your child was born with evil genes and you're
not remotely to blame. We do see these cases sometimes with Hungarians.
My advice is to pray that the Nebraska legislature hasn't fixed their Child
Abandonment Law yet."

"You've given me hope, Doctor. Thank you so much."

"Not at all."

Doctors may say there's no cure for the common cold, but I've found that
telling a sick child she can stay home from school usually brings on an instant
recovery. Apply this tonic and even the most lethargic, miserable patient
will be bouncing off the walls again in no time. It certainly worked for me
as a kid. Given a can of ginger ale and four hours of The Price is Right,
Let's Make A Deal, and $10,000 Pyramid, I could have had an appendectomy
without anesthetic. I learned a lot of useful lessons in economics too. How
else would I know that an Amana Radarange actually costs more than
a super-8 projector and a Dymo Label Maker combined?

Of course to children the only thing better than a sick day is a snow day. It's
the reason God invented the Nor'easter--the best of all possible worlds. It's
like saying, "No liver tonight, kids. We've got too many of these darned
Devil Dogs to eat up." In the annals of great snow days there is one that
stands out as the greatest of them all. And incredibly, I was there.

You wouldn't think six inches of snow would be a boon for skating, but one
night it snowed, then briefly rained, then got very cold. The next morning
my friend Davy and I found ourselves alone on an outdoor rink roughly the
size of Massachusetts. We skated all around his yard. We skated across our
whole neighborhood, down deserted streets, up hills, through the woods,
slalomed around trees, passed a hockey puck back and forth in the living
room of a house that was under construction. You've never seen two happier,
freer people. Would it have been just as much fun on a Saturday? Maybe. But
between Bugs Bunny in the morning and Creature Double Feature in the afternoon
I'm not sure we would have had the time.

John Lengyel lives in Cohasset. He's pretty sure colds are much harder on
him than they are on his kids. Either that or he's become a total wimp,
but that doesn't seem likely, so we're back to the first theory.