There is barely a four year old left in our town who hasn't got or hasn't had chicken pox. The lad proudly showed me the blooms of scabby blotches on his torso a few days ago. This answered the question of why the husband and I had been changing puke soaked sheets each night last week and begged another: how do you work when your child is unable to go to childcare? Luckily my parents are here to help and the lad's best mate has chicken pox too so his mum and I can tag team looking after them as they lift up their t shirts and compete for the title of most pox ridden. I'm thinking more about the parents who see the telltale spots and have to dress their children in high necked, long sleeved t shirts and trousers and pack them off to school with strict instructions to stay fully clothed regardless of the temperature. It must be incredibly stressful worrying about your poorly child whilst maintaining a professional, collected air at work.