Last night, Jill looked like this. She looked good this morning too: happy, playful, bossy.
At Mass, her cough came back with a vengeance. Hacking, juicy coughs, gagging, and a little bit of vomiting in the back of Church. We left Mass under a dark cloud of mortification after infecting the pregnant lady and her toddler behind us.
As soon as we got home, she was her same old "Let It Go" singing self. She ate a big lunch, did a couple of puzzles, and I took a nap.
When I woke up, she was gagging and choking and coughing and running a fever.
Two Advil and an hour and a half later, she is still flushed and feverish. I ran to Target to get a humidifier because I know tonight is going to be a challenge, and I picked up this pink sippy cup too.
The bad news is the lid has already popped off two or three times, soaking her shirt with peppermint tea.
The good news is we have every My Little Pony related show in our Netflix queue for first-time-ever viewing.
Looks like we'll be going to the doctor's office tomorrow. I can't really complain, because we have been illness and injury free thus far this year. Nothing like a little pre-Lenten suffering to get us all warmed up.
Until then, hit me with your homemade croup/possibly pneumonia cures and please accept my apologies for the lamest blog post in the history of the written word.
So ends 7 Posts in 7 Days.
See you Wednesday for WWRW. I hope.