Germs à la française

My little girl was sick for the first time in her short life. She's been carnky for the first time ever. Suzanne smiles all the time, is never cranky and never whines. I don't know how it happened, but she was born that way and we are not complaining.

But over the weekend, she just kept looking at me, with that saddest-baby-in-the-world face saying "mamama" over and over. It was terrible and I felt so helpless. And then the coughing and the fever started. So we went to see Doctor R this afternoon.

I really like Doctor R. He's really nice and makes dumb jokes and is relaxed, not alarmist...and he kisses me hello. Yes, my doctor gives me bissous. One on each cheek. When I get there and when I leave.

Now, Doctor R is youngish, drives a motorcycle and is all around cool but...those bissous. It gets me thinking about all the other people he's bissoused all day long. All those cold sores, flus and pink eye! Ok, I'm sure he's selective about who he bissous, but he did once bissous me when I had a really bad cold...Jérôme says that he bissous me because he likes me (he likes us, he said). But, still, how can you tell your doctor that you don't want his bissous anymore? It's not like walking into a party where you don't know anyone and avoiding bissouing random people by waving to the whole room.

So, if I wake up with my eyelashes stuck together tomorrow morning, we know why.