Welcome to Hatchet's House of Suck! Where you, too, can get a 100+ degree fever and hang out!
Logan is sick. We noticed right away last night when he didn't let us sleep AT ALL. And felt pretty warm. He was like a little hot water bottle baby. Mmm. Warm!
What is it with kids getting sick at night and on the weekends?
His burning desire to see the inside of an emergency clinic was thwarted by early morning hours at our pediatrician's office and because he never spiked a temperature over 101.5. Clearly his puny efforts (100.4) weren't enough.
Logan however, thinks he's dying. He has a Man Cold.
He even started planning out his tiny will.
"I wants to be berrid wif mah blankie an' mah yewwow puppy and sum chew toys. Like a Pharoah Kingy-thingy. I coulda been A KING! Cut down in mah yoof. Dis a tragiddy of epic 'portions!"
Emma failed to be sympathetic. "Whatchu 'plainin' 'bout? I gotted a cold when Ah was only a week old! Dis is nuffinks!"
Logan, in between moaning and slamming his head into my collarbone, cut her out of his will, "Jus' for dat you get nuffinks! Nuffinks for you! I take all my toys wif me! An' you be sorry when I all gone." Cough cough. Moan.
"I sorry. You mus' be really sick." Pat, pat, pat. "Ya big baby."