My wife and I take turns walking our five-year-old daughter to the bus stop for school every morning. Today was my turn, and as me and all the other moms in the neighborhood waited, one of them asked me to say hello to my wife.

"I will," I said. "It'll make her feel better. She has pneumonia."

"Oh, poor girl," they all said in unison. One of them crooked her eyebrow at me and said, "I hope you're helping her with the kids, the cooking and cleaning."

"I can't," I said pointing to the band aid on my index finger. "I have a hangnail."