We're sick. I honest to god couldn't tell you if these pictures are out of order or not. There is no day, no night in the land of sick. Sigh. Clearly, you thought it best to call me to talk about that. Fair enough, Man.
We blew up the air mattress and rested...and jumped...and rested...and checked on the insane growth outside in the garden, and wore a bean bag toss as a bus. "Mommy! Look! I a bus!!" You're brilliant.
You serenaded me as I tried not to whine too much about my throat, and when it was clear that that wasn't quite fixing it, you brought over the laundry basket to cuddle with me in. That worked. That might work forever in getting you out of trouble, but I take comfort in the knowledge that it'll be a long time before you're able to read and acknowledge that fact.
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