Well, I have unfairly maligned the S.O.B. diet. I thought it was the weird veggie dishes and lack of caffeine that made me sick. Instead, it was a monster flu.
I tried to stick to the diet on Tuesday, munching ham-and-egg dishes and watching "North and South" while Benny was at daycare. At 4 p.m., I surrendered my honor for chicken soup and Coke.
But I wasn't out of the woods yet. I started Wednesday at 6 a.m. tossing my cookies all over the kitchen. Then I held an encore performance in the bathroom. Then I nearly passed out.
Ron skipped work that day and put a baby gate across our bedroom door so I could watch them have fun without me. Every so often Benny would run to the gate and talk to me as I lay in my bed of pain. ("Truck! Bye-bye Car! Frog! Quack!") Then we'd sing songs. Really pathetic. I felt like Dumbo's mother locked in the "Mad Elephant" cage. Sometimes I lurched around the house like Quasimodo, but then I'd get dizzy and had to return to bed.
So that's three days lost to my life, and although I can't blame it on the S.O.B. diet, I'm not all that anxious to start it up again.