An actual good day.
Ok – a good day in PPD land is not the same as a good day nationwide, but still, for me, this is big. The Tiny Tyrant shat on me today. Why and/or how that fixed something in me that was broken I cannot explain.
He was fussy all morning. Seriously fussy and not sleeping. Dork Dad and I thought it was gas so we burped him… incessantly. We jiggled, we walked, we did tummy time, we did back patting, we stood on our heads and drank from water glasses while singing the National Anthem. In Latin.
Then we decided to check his temperature. (Do you see where I’m going with this?) We got him on the changing table and I put the vaseline on the thermometer. Dork Dad and I both apologized as I inserted it and then
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