·         The first year:  "Sugar dumpling, I'm really worried about my baby girl.  You've got a bad sniffle, and there's no telling about these things with all this strep throat going around.  I'm putting you in the hospital this afternoon for a general checkup and a good rest.  I know the food's lousy, but I'll be bringing your meals in from Rossini's.  I've already got it all arranged with the floor superintendent."

·         The second year:  "Listen, darling, I don't like the sound of that cough.  I called Doc Miller and asked him to rush over here.  Now you go to bed like a good girl, please?  Just for papa."

·         The third year:  "Maybe you'd better lie down, honey; nothing like a little rest when you feel lousy.  I'll bring you something to eat.  Have you got any canned soup?"

·         The fourth year:  "Now look, dear, be sensible.  After you've fed the kids, washed the dishes, and finished the floor, you'd better lie down."

·         The fifth year:  "Why don't you take a couple of aspirin?"

·         The sixth year:  "I wish you'd just gargle or something, instead of sitting around all evening barking like a seal!"

·         The seventh year:  "For Pete's sake, stop sneezing!  Are you trying to give me pneumonia?!