...or on all of Cirrus, at any rate.
I'm at home today, having booked it off weeks ago because it's L's work's Christmas lunch and the second performance of the Christmas Play at Cirrus' nursery (the first having been yesterday, which L was going to see).
The trouble is, Cirrus, like a significant proportion of the rest of the cast, has come down with the dreaded pox, so I won't be seeing him dressed up as a shepherd or hearing him sing the songs he's been absent-mindedly practicing for the last couple of months.
What is it about chicken pox that makes people so worried? I mean, at the first sign of it the nursery packs an infected child off home to try and stop it spreading further. But is that such a bad thing? I mean, sure, it's not a terribly nice illness, with the open blisters all over you, but it's not as if it it lays kids up in bed or makes them feel more than a little off-colour. And it can be much more dangerous, for a man at least, to get it later in life as it can cause fertility problems. So you'd think that you'd want kids to have it when they're young. Or am I missing something?
Anyway, Cirrus has spots all over him (including one on the edge of one of his eyelids) so I've got to stay at home with him (and Nimbus, of course) watching DVDs all day. It's a hard life.