For two days I was feeling a little high-and-mighty.
"Oh," I was saying to imaginary mothers in my head, "your child is fussy while teething? You're having a terrible time? Huh." At this point in the imaginary conversation I would shrug while also looking supremely compassionate. "Thisbe didn't seem to be bothered by it."
And God saw that conversation in my head.
And God was like, "Ooooooohhhh reeeeeaaaaalllllly???"
And then the shit hit the fan.
It is difficult to tell if there is more liquid coming from your nose or your mouth, but cometh it does. Much of it. We went through 5 bibs today so quickly that I had to put them in the dryer. Without washing them first. That's right, I dried your snotty bibs and reused them.
In addition to the liquid overflow (you vomited tonight, just to add to the orifice expulsion fun) there is your refusal to nap. You gave us a mere 30 minutes this morning, a mere 15 minutes this afternoon. I pray you sleep through the night.
But just in case God is still in "ooooohhhhh reeeeaaallllly?" mode, I've purchased a bunch of infant drugs as Walgreens. And I'm not afraid to use them.
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