Poor little Maarten is sick. He has the flu and has been lying in bed for two days now. While I feel sorry for him, at the same time I cannot help thinking to myself how cute he looks with his little sad, red face calling us once in awhile with his squeaky high-pitched voice. Of course, this means that at night he gets the honor of sleeping next to his mother (she insists) and I get banished to Maarten's bed. This is always an interesting experience, and I do not mind really. It is comforting being surrounded by his many stuffed animals, and there is a certain soft smell of his sheets and pillow that soothes me. Let's say it kind of reminds me of when I was little. A mental relapse triggered by smells and tactile softness bringing me back to the good old world of childhood. I slept deeply and woke up renewed, holding Maarten's favorite teddy bear in my arms cuddled to my chest. Now I have to go to work.