miserable, part 2

in the least surprising plot twist of the year, baby sparklet is now 98% healthy, and i’m sick as a dog. the lady sparkler actually had to leave work early today to come bail me out, after i had gotten sick enough that i was asking the baby to fix me musinex and orange juice cocktails.

we’re already embarrassed to talk about how well sparklet has been sleeping, but her being sick has added another couple of hours to the nightly tally. yesterday she had slept in so late that i went into the nursery to check that she was still alive.

i tip-toed in, leaned my head over the crib, listened to her chest … and she simultaneously kicked and punched me in the head.

i guess she’s decided she’s lloyd dobbler — doesn’t want a career where she sells anything bought or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, and is looking into kickboxing as the sport of the future.

(I don’t really know, i can’t figure it all out tonight, sir, so I’m just gonna hang with your daughter.)