Swine flu, child flu and manflu, compare and contrast

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6EElqrgk4N0

Twin 2 is unwell. She is experienced in the art of throwing a sickie, and what with it being Monday morning I was sceptical. I went through the Badmother checklist I have developed to identify a scam:

1. Do not immediately check temperature. Closely observe child to prevent him/her pressing forehead against heater, then check for signs of fever;
2. Engage in close eye contact, and watch for signs of child looking downwards and slightly to the left whilst under interrogation about symptoms;
3. Ask the other Little Darlings whether there is anything in particular happening in school today, ideally before they learn of child's supposed illness, lest you fall foul of a sibling conspiracy.
4. In desperation inform child that you were intending to take them bowling/to the movies after school, but if s/he is not well...

Sadly Eve passed the test, and excelled herself by adding that her neck was stiff. I'm sufficiently cynical about Twin 2 to believe that she's heard that this is a symptom intended to make parents squawk, and run around hysterically looking for a glass to check for a rash that doesn't disappear under pressure. She didn't look that ill, but I did check out the NHS Direct website. They have a questionnaire that checks symptoms. When I added the stiff neck, and clicked next, an alarming red sign flashed at me - DIAL 999. Awe come on, I thought. Whoever disigned the questionnaire clearly has not come across a child with the inventiveness and determination to miss school as Twin 2. It's now 10.30 am and after an hours sleep and a bucket of Calpol she's slumped on the sofa watching Hannah Montanna and making demands every ten minutes in the style of a 1970s Secretary General of the TUC .

What concerns me more than Eve swinging a day off for a mild cold is that Spouse was sneezing loudly and dramatically over the breakfast table this morning. It did occur to me that the dire warnings of a Swine flu pandemic on breakfast tv had subconsciously tugged at his Y chromosome intent on inducing a bout of Manflu. This morning it was sneezing, this evening he will be coughing like a barking seal, checking his temperature repeatedly, and he will have a face like a slapped arse. Tomorrow he will struggle to the sofa, and whisper stoic phrases such as You go to work, I'll be ok.... probably. The kitchen will become full of every cold remedy known to mankind. Meanwhile I will fight the urge to say anything remotely like, get it yourself you lazy malingerer.

Paradoxically, I know it's pointless to suggest that if he really is as ill as his self reported life threatening symptoms indicate he should, perhaps, think about seeing a doctor. Another clause of the Blokeness Code of Practice that I forget to mention in an earlier post is - thou shalt not consult a medic unless you have a limb hanging off, or you have stopped breathing.