Ponies

So our illnesses progressed to the points where the words "strep" and "dehydrated" and "listless" and "emergency room" were uttered, which resulted in many panicked phone calls and not nearly enough popsicle consumption and that moment in every parent's life when you have to force-feed medicine into your weeping, hysterical child and everything seems so much worse than it is because nobody has slept in days, but here we are at the tail end of it, left with nothing more than a nasty cough and a severe case of cabin fever.

And ponies.  Really, that's what strep has given us.  It has given us ponies.

Before this time, we knew not what ponies were.  We knew of them, but they were not of us.  They have now eaten us alive.

Hi.  I'm Fluttershy.  Or usually I'm Fluttershy, but sometimes I'm Cheerliee or very rarely Thistle Whistle.  Sometimes I'm the Dark Princess of the Moon, who is also Luna, who is also Nightmare Moon.

Willow is Rarity.  Or Pinkie Pie.  Or Minty.  Or Scootaloo or Toula Roula or Cheerilee or Princess Celestia or Rainbow Dash.  The frequency of name-changes is inversely related to body temperature. 

We have colored coloring books.  We have discussed cutie marks.  We have read books, and we have watched the show.  Oh, the show.  Ponies may have gotten us through this, but the show was the true lifesaver.  It was how I knew Willow wasn't dying.  When she was non-responsive, when she wouldn't eat ice cream but would only lie there and moan, we would watch ponies and she would perk up.  It was like an I/V.

So.  Ponies.  It could be worse, I guess.  Excuse me, I have to go study--unless any of you know what Sweetie Belle's cutie mark is?