Thursday, 7:05 pm: Our Living Room

Poor child.

Poor, sweet, miserable child.



She's been sick since 5:15 pm yesterday, when I picked her up at her after-school program. She had just returned from the drinking fountain down the hallway, and had a funny look on her face.

I asked her why she looked so guilty, and she crept up to me slowly and whispered in my ear, "I just puked in the hallway." She was so embarrassed.

The hallway incident was the first of many that would continue into the wee hours of the morning. She moaned and heaved and cried out mid-hurl, "this is the WORST day of my life!" She's only been sick like this one or two times before, and every time it happens, it breaks my heart. I would do anything to take her place.

This is what she looked like most of the day today.



When she's sick like this, she turns into the cuddliest, snuggliest, sweetest human being on earth. She scooches up next to me and strokes my hair and tells me that I'm the best mom ever. She snoozes on the couch with those rosy cheeks and that peaceful, cherubic look on her face. When she's sick like this, it makes me want to cuddle under the blanket with her, nuzzle my nose against hers, and cover her with kisses. The last thing on my mind is keeping myself from being exposed to whatever bug she has.

I'm doomed.

Oh, and I had a big bowl of spaghetti and meatballs for dinner tonight.

Was that a bad idea?