Little sickies


It is 12.48am.

I am back in bed, listening to my littlest man cough & cough despite the dose of medicine I just administered.

It has been a looong weekend. Not in the good, went away or did lots of relaxing type way. Long as in, the house looks like a bomb site, smells slightly funny & these pyjamas might require surgical removal.

Sick kids is no fun for anyone & as with most families my boys work on a tag team system when it comes to sharing germs so we’ve generally always got some type of lurgy on the go.

This weekend though, they’ve decided to mix it up. We have had the full spectrum – gastro complete with projectile vomitting, soiled bed linen & a suspicious rash to copious amounts of green snot & the horrendous barking cough I’m listening to now. (Sorry if that’s all too much info but sleep deprivation has blurred the lines of socially acceptable disclosure a little.)

I have managed to see past the bodily fluids, excessive laundry and increasing sleep debt to appreciate a few of the nicer (less gross) aspects of sick kidlets. Sooky cuddles & a desperate need for mummy love being a definite upside. As was my precious Will stroking my forehead while I lay exhausted in bed this morning, telling me to go back to sleep, that he would look after daddy & Nick.

It was a very tempting offer but I stole an extra cuddle instead.

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