It’s no joy to be sick. It’s even less joy when your child is sick. But the most unjoy is when you AND your child are sick together.
That happened to my poor wife a few weeks ago. She and Little Lady, going on three years old, both had a cold — with all the sneezing and wheezing, hacking and coughing, wailing and whining required for a https://shakuryukou.com/
http://urzadzajzpasja.pl/certificate of authenticity.
Little Lady normally bubble-pops with zest and vigor. Actually “bursting at the seems, bouncing off the walls and ka-booming through the roof” would be a more accurate description. So it was quite eerie to see her mope around like the drooping leaves of a Siberian Peonies that’s been fed too much stale beer…not that I have a clue how the drooping leaves of a Siberian Peonies that’s been fed too much stale beer would look.
Every now and then, the moping would be punctuated with a sneeze. Little Lady has a most flamboyant sneezing style, adorning the walls in unique patterns. No corner of the room is safe when she sneezes. In fact, her projection has taught her baby sister in her playpen across the room the fine art of dodging.
While I was cleaning up Little Lady’s flamboyance, my wife was trying to sooth a sore throat that was threatening to rip her very insides apart. Normally she doesn’t drink tea. Normally we don’t even use the kettle, except to heat water for warming up the baby’s bottle.