Tommy has a toy remote control (how manly) that you can flip to the weather station. A man with an annoyingly high-pitched voice says, without fail, "And it's gonna be bright and sunny today!"
Yesterday, and today, it's true.
Except that Tommy and I are sick like dogs. I hate to be a whiner, but I am the youngest child. Isn't it officially spring? Doesn't that mean the cold and flu season is Over? When I signed up for the 2am shift, why didn't I consider the possibility that I might be coughing uncontrollably and dying for sleep-recovery of my own?
Poor Tommy. He's having the scary-high baby fevers and he rests his head heavily on my shoulder. That always indicates a problem, since he'd usually rather be scooting towards the nearest outlet. Or pulling Grandma's tablecloth off the table so the huge vase comes crashing down.*
*Grandchild in a Disaster Zone coming to theatres near you soon.
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