I see a pattern emerging. I sit at my desk, I turn around and see a child eating. Occasionally I put the child there (as in this instance). Occasionally, not so much.
This is my sick baby. He has lost 10 percent of his body weight in 72 hours. Which sounds a lot more dramatic than he has lost 2 pounds. You would think that based on his shirt, he has lost 50% of his body weight. He is practicing my mother’s motto–If you want people to think you have lost weight, wear big clothes. Why it is unbuttoned down to his belly button so that you just want to put a heavy gold chain around his neck and call him “Paulie,” I don’t know.
I would like to lose 10 percent of my body weight in 72 hours. But not by having a nasty gastrointestinal virus.
This is the one moment he was happy today. He basically wailed the rest of the day unless I walked around the house with him, singing the ABC song in his ear. I took him to the doctor and he promptly began to feel better. It reminded me of all those times our beater car would break down in high school and then my dad would drive it to see what was wrong and it would run better than a ’57 vette. I hated that. But I was glad to have the screaming stop. That was positive.
Now he is sleeping. Maybe I should sleep too. I have to get up and take pictures of the kids of the kids at The Boy’s school tomorrow. I’m sure his behavior will be stellar. My mom said “too bad you don’t have a button maker.”
Well, it’s funny you should mention that.
My mother now has button machine envy.