Friday, January 29, 2010

Ailing Esky

The Ruskinator sleeps on me now, as I type.

And that is the only place she will give in - to her heavy eyelids, laced with goo - and mould her squishiness into my front in phlegm-choking slumber.

It's like she melted there.

I explained to her this morning, as I wiped her nose-faucet for the 67th time in 24 hours, that bugs such as these are part of life. I sat back and outlined the immune system and our need as humans to battle germs so that we can be strong. I told her, and myself, it would pass.

And then, wide-mouthed crying as she did so, she clapped audibly as more snot ran down to her lips.*

Scrumptious even while snotty, she is. Bless you, little one.


*Esky has no concept of the connotations associated with things such as applause or head-shaking. This did not prevent the occurence from amusing me. Greatly.
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