A husband’s reactions to his wife’s colds during seven years of marriage
First year: “Sugar dumpling; I’m really worried about my
baby girl. You’ve got a bad sniffle, and there’s no telling about these things
with all the strep throat going around. I’m putting you in the hospital this
afternoon for a general checkup, and a good rest.
Second year: “Listen, darling, I don’t like the sound of
that cough, and I’ve called Doc Miller to rush over here. Now you go to bed
like a good girl, just for Poppa.”
Third year: “Maybe you better lie down, honey. Nothing like a little rest when you feel lousy. I’ll bring you something. Have we got any canned soup?”
Fourth year: “Now look, dear, be sensible. After you’ve fed the kids, and got the dishes done, and the floor finished, you better lie down.”
Fifth year: “Why don’t you take a couple of aspirin?”
Sixth year: “I wish you’d just gargle or something instead of sitting around barking like a seal all evening.”
Seventh year: “For Pete’s sake, stop sneezing! Are you
trying to give me pneumonia?”
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