My weekend plans for being a good housewife and churning out pots of soup, salsa, apple butter, and more were foiled by a simple runny nose.
That’s right. Dash, at nearly nine months, came down with his first cold. The snot ran, the eyes watered, the baby cried, the sleep was interrupted. It was both sad (it was impossible to look at his little face and not feel bad for him) and pathetic (it was equally impossible not to laugh).
And then, just like that, it was over. In about 24-hours he cycled through snotty misery and came right back out. Please, please, please let this be a sign of how he’ll react to any colds/flu/bumps/bruises in his future.
And to celebrate, we forced him to wear a wig and pose for a picture. You know, it’s what they call Good Parenting.
Why must you people mess with me? Why, Mon, why?Tweet