“Bird eat cookie.” This is W’s first real sentence put together on his own without any prompting from his mama. Landmark moment. I threw a half eaten piece of cookie out into the yard as I lifted him into his carseat this morning and that was his narration. I was proud, proud, proud and thankful that I could document him saying something sweet and innocent and not snarky and in bad taste, a definite possibility in our colorful little household.
While W has nearly mended from last week’s health deficiencies, I didn’t escape the wrath unscathed. As I write, I sniffle, sneeze, cough and wheeze into tissue after tissue. I honk like a goose in heat and people around me cringe in subtle horror. I have absorbed a milder version of W’s bronchial issue but it’s enough to make me want to scratch the inside of my throat for hours with a round hairbrush and hide under the covers for the rest of the day. Totally stinks.
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