...is surely having your kid puke at your in-laws' house. We've actually already crossed that bridge with Reese, but to a very minor extent. This weekend we had the pleasure of a very sick Makena at 1:30am. Poor thing, it stinks to be sick, but it really stinks to be sick when you're not even at home. It really stinks when you're a parent, you're not at home and your kid is sick.
It was actually a banner weekend for us at the lake. Willow, who usually observes the water from a snooty, been-there-done-that-don't-want-to-get-wet-today distance, decided to take a flying leap off the seawall into the cold water. None of us was expecting it and I was the only one who witnessed it. As luck would have it, I was all the way across the yard and had to holler to Brett's dad to grab her. The water is high now (typical for late fall) so there was no beach for her to walk out onto. Dogs with short, smushed-in noses aren't known for their swimming prowess. Dayton fished her out by her collar and she spent the remainder of the evening wrapped in a towel in my lap. Hmm. Maybe that was actually her master plan. Or maybe she's just losing it.
Reese, in typical three-year-old fashion, ignored our constant instructions not to rough house on the leather couch. What do you think you get when you put a wiggly three year old (wearing socks) on a leather couch? You get a three-year-old who is no longer on the couch. She managed to fall head first onto the hardest hardwood floors ever installed.
We're such good parents. One sick kid who gets every last bit of bedding messy. One dog who probably lost a vocal cord being yanked out of the water. One kid with a bright blue goose-egg on her forehead. All in one 12 hour time span!
1 comment:
motherhood is NOT for sisses!
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