So the Little Master Boob’s had a cold now for about a week, not a really nasty one, just a constant runny nose and slightly more tantrums than usual over why he can’t play Batman games on the computer all day, why he isn’t allowed to eat the doggy doo-doo infested snow on our daily walk and why he can’t fly.
Next in line was Little Miss Boob, who seemed to inherit the runny nose thing a lot less severely, though the tantrum thing was right up there. But rest assured, just because her tantrums are more – well, logical – doesn’t make them easier to bear. Ah me.
Then Papa Boob joined the fray, leaving only Littlest Boob (all six weeks of him) and myself to be the fully-functioning members of this otherwise snotty house. Until today. Poor little dude, I don’t think there’s anything that can simultaneously make my own life harder and yet invoke nothing but an “awwwwwww…you poor little SWEEEEEETIE!” like a sniffling bubba. I say ‘harder’, but in some ways, it’s been easier today, in that all he’s wanted to do is feed, sleep, feed, sleep, feed, sniffle, sleep. In other words, my perfect day.
In triathlon news, I did my first run today – 25 minutes, of which I actually ran for probably two thirds, stopping for speed walk intervals. (Did I say ‘speed walk?’ I mean ‘puke prevention interval’.) I got home and felt like Queen of the world. Well, okay, maybe not the world. How bout Sweden?