The Cutest, Sickest, Happiest Snot Collection of All Time
It's been a full week of sick, with a smattering of blog issues smack in the middle, and then more sick. Leaves a guy not that eager to type, snap a photo, or even put together a coherent thought. So I didn't.
Kinda makes a photo a day a hard deal to stick to. I guess we'll have to amend and address that idea...apparently Mother Nature, or the Universe, or Buddha, or something didn't want me posting a shot a day, but it was, however, fine with our entire house falling victim to legions of snot warriors and coughing fits. Shrug...don't try to figure it out.
Zo and Maggie have been hit the worst...Mags has snot bubbles for God's sake...and Zo looks like a 1940s prize fighter, with bags under her eyes so big that most airlines would force you to check them. It's been particularly hard on them which makes it particularly hard on us. I don't manage sick kids very well, especially not my own. Other people's sick children typically solicit a kind of muted pity from me, or occasionally a more burdensome apathy. I don't like not caring but then sometimes I just don't. When my own children are sick, I get...I dunno...worries isn't quite the right word...maybe undone? I came partly undone by their suffering. There's not much that you can do, and that typically doesn't sit comfortably in all my thinking-too-much spots. I'd make a horrible nurse.
They still smile...I swear those wonderful things are distilled here in this house. These girls are the smilingest two girls of all time. First there was Zo...happy, almost constantly, and then there was Mags...a smiling, energetic, bundle of barely mobile contentment and gurgly giggles. We might be dismantled by illness from time to time but we rarely wander into unhappy territory. The address on this street corner identifies a pretty happy house.
Sick...so what. We'll manage. How could we not with two little girls who do their best to shrug it off so effortlessly. If I felt as bad as they looked this week, well, cute fleece sweatshirts, tiny little blue jeans, and stylin' moccasins wouldn't make me photo worthy...it's all Mags needs. Just keep the Kleenex close.