Bad bad mean stomach cramps this morning and I think this might be it. I throw up and am sick. He runs up the stairs with his long legs and small chubby feet (so telling of his parents, Z and me). Rubs my back and his presence is really so comforting. Keeps asking me questions while I am throwing up. (That says something about me, I have to confess) I lay down, he asks me to get up. I do exactly as he wants. I get a check up. I am asked to sit on the playmat. I cannot. Nevertheless, since life, as he knows it, does not exist outside of the playmat anymore a toy on a strig is used as a stethescope. Next, almost immediately a nail file is produced to check my mouth. I still have no idea where he stashes all this.
I am pronounced fine, given some make believe medicine cupped in his little palm and then told that I have been a very good girl.
Then an imaginary sticker is posted on my knee for being good, just like his pediatrician does.
God, please listen to me when I say that I don't want my little caretaker to grow up.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
:)
and beautiful header picture.
hope you are feeling better.
hugs momstir. how have you been?
just saw the dateline on your blog- 17 days to go???
All the best... be safe and healthy.
waiting to for the grand announcement. warm wishes to you...
hey! you holding up okay? little baby's must be so ready to pop by now! good luck!
:) hey! so has the little one arrived yet?
Post a Comment