Since Friday, a nasty bug has been going around the Frozen North household. This germ takes parent and child alike and transforms them into fragile balls of gastrointestinal distress wrapped in a veneer of grumpiness.

Needless to say, this has not made for happy campers for the past few days, and the level of discourse with the twins has dropped even below that you would normally expect from a two-year-old:

"AWAMAYAAWAA!"

"I'm sorry, Skeeter, I can't understand you when you try to talk and cry at the same time."

"AWAMAYAAWAA!!!!"

"What do you want?"

"AWAMAYAAWAA!!!!!!!!!"

"Do you want a hug?"

"No!"

"What do you want?"

"AWAMAYAAWAA!"

"Milk? Water?"

"No! Awamayaawaa!"

"I'm sorry, Skeeter, but I really can't understand what you're trying to say."

"AWAMAYAAWAA!"

"Can I put on Bob the Builder?"

"Noooo! AWAMAYAAWAA!"

"I'll put on Bob the Builder, and you can watch that."

"Awamayaawaa!"

I don't like using the TV as a tranquilizer (in fact, we hardly ever let the kids watch it except when they're sick), but sometimes there's just no choice. In went the bright yellow videocassette, and within seconds the cheerful tunes and bright colors of Bob the Builder were working their magic. Skeeter gradually calmed down, just occasionally letting out a little whimper of "awamayaawaa."

I never did figure out what he wanted.