“How’s it going, Flo?” my husband asked, glancing toward the couch where I sat perched before my feverish four year old with a little plastic cup of Ibuprofen. “She’s decided that this isn’t any better than the grape flavor,” I replied, sighing. Time to pull out the big guns. “How about some chocolate ice cream?” My daughter’s teary eyes brightened.…
Just Call Me Flo
