And it has started. I foolishly thought last week that we were in the clear. It was December, by god, and she was still healthy, still disease free. I flaunted it. I tempted fate and laughed in its face. I mean really, by this time last yr, I was pretty sure the wrath of baby germs would burn our house to the ground, or at the very least open a time portal to the 3rd circle of hell.
I shouldn't have been so arrogant. Those germs, they're sneaky. They wait in hiding, until just the right moment. Apparently yesterday was a good moment. A pulled out her sexy, I just finished 6 packs of Cools mom, voice. She looked like the puppies at the Pet Store in the Mall. She was laying it on thick. She even begged for a nap at daycare.
Today, fever of 101 and I'm taking yet another unpaid day off to watch Dora - oh how I despise Dora. The last thing I want is my daughter to grow up thinking she needs help with EVERYTHING she is going to try to do.
While I have no symptoms, I must be feverish too, as I stupidly thought that I would take this opportunity, this time when A IS SICK to wash her blankie. What the hell is wrong with me? I told her the blankie needed a bath. So now not only do I have a sick child whining for her blankie, but one who is also whining for a bath of her own. Not my brightest parenting moment.