Am LP, work in creative sector, one-woman department with lots of project deadlines, can't 'not work' - even if DS is sick, like today.
So here I am, I've had 3 hours sleep (because I was up all night, working and watching DS, because his temp is still a bit up after all the possible Calpol and Nurofen) hammering away at my keyboard wearing woolly tights and a tunic (not really adequately covering fanjo- Amazon delivery man got a shock), dashing around to fetch snacks , stroke hair, change DVDs and make drinks, while DS sits next to me, sniffing, sighing, watching Pingu, and refusing to eat anything except mango, strawberries and puff corn, and basically having the time of his life - albeit a bit hot and snotty.
AIBU to think that this is a crystalline example of how men come to understand gender roles during times of Manflu?
(NOTE - DS has a history of poor upper respiratory health, and I do genuinely feel awful for him. But I also feel like my baby has been possessed by the spirit of all of my exboyfriends ever.)