The baby has a cold.
Congestion, low-grade temperatures, chills, achiness, lots of sleepiness, and crankiness all wrapped up in one little package.
It has been since Sunday afternoon.
The baby needs a lot of attention.
Medicine, fluids, special food, extra snuggles.
Since Sunday afternoon, my world has revolved around that baby not feeling well.
The baby is staying home today.
Time to rest, and recoup.
For three whole days, since Sunday – if you can believe it, there’s been a lot of sick-baby drama.
Thank goodness because I am sick and tired of dealing with this baby.
That’s because the baby is FORTY YEARS OLD and his name is Ryan and he is my husband.
The big baby.
Grown men with colds. Enough said.
He can’t be mad at me for writing this. Nope. No way.
Me: What should I write about?
Him: Write about how your husband is sick.