January 25th

You wanted a tulip from my bouquet...you look cuter with them than I...

So, what seems to have happened is that all of the cold viruses that ever were seem to have set up camp in our bodies.  Like a retreat.  I'm pretty sure that snot was sent from the underworld and their central processing is in our sinuses.  In case we're studied for the cure, mark the date that this was hypothesized...

What can I say, you cuted all day long despite feeling like rot.  You cute cuter on sick days than most people do in their whole lives, Mister Man, well done.  The animals are being incredibly good to you, you're a brilliantly toddler mix of being wonderful to them and being a terror...they're taking it and seem to love you more for it.  I need sleep.  You seem to not.  I love you.  That's all I've got. 

A-a-aaa-aaaaaaaaaaa-CHOOO!

January 24th

Reading the New Yorker was exhausting...oh...no, maybe it was that you woke up at three and didn't go back to sleep.  Either way, we did actually read the New Yorker per your request.  Fascinating articles.  Outdated, but whatever.

You slept for a while in the living room and I was so feeling so wretched that I decided to throw some steaming hot naan on my head.  It helped.  As did the fact that every single animal in the house was attached to either you or me throughout the last 24 hours... 

When you woke up we cuddled.  Then we played a little before cuddling.  We ate, then cuddled, then went to bed.  We're so sick!  I wonder if this is the flu but lessened because of the shot?  I've never had a cold like this, I hope mine is worse than yours because I can't imagine not knowing what's going on and feeling like this.  It's the only way it could get worse really... Well, that or being required to watch Mighty Machines over and over and over and over and over only breaking to watch fire trucks on parade or garbage trucks picking up trash.  Sigh.  My head hurts.  I want some of the snot to loosen, Man, that's all I really want.  I'll watch your sireny stuff more happily, I promise, when it's not reverberating in an otherwise stagnant mass of mucus.  

Sorry for that.  I'm not erasing it though.  This is life. 

January 23rd

Sicky McSickerson, we had another day inside...and it was gonna be just you and me all day, with Steph at school, and me officially having contracted the ick, but Ro came over while Dolly went to work...oh it was good times... There was trampolining (spell chick didn't underline that, I was sure I'd have to defend it...) and tent building...garbage trucks were played with, garbage was shared...and not so shared... There was lunch, there was a nap (there also was not a nap...Ro wanted to talk instead...she and I have very good talks these days) and then Dolly came and hung out for a short bit so I could have some play time with my adult friends...and then you and Steph and I played the night away.  We played HARD.  Speaking of hard: the "door" to the fort - not made for adults.

You have the best laugh.  I hope you're always this jovial when you're feeling under the weather.  I feel like pooooo....