So Hubby has been complaining the last few days of a sore throat and stuffy head. Yesterday he told me that he thought he was at the end of it. Today started out fine, now my head is pounding and my sinuses are all full. Hubby came home early, achy and stuffy. Huzzah, the plague has come to Chez Coffeemomma.
The only thing I'm hoping is that Toast, if he gets sick at all, gets sick AFTER we have recovered. Taking care of a sick kid is one thing, taking care of one while you are also sick is something else entirely.
Spent the entire day with my sister, shopping and running general errands. Had a slight heart attack in Target (where all of my adventures begin, such as Toast calling my mom on my cell phone at eight months of age). So I'm looking for a toothbrush for Toast, seeing as he has four teeth, is eating table food, and has foul breath. He's in the cart, I have a hand on it, but my sister and I are clearly distracted. That's when I turn around and see him STANDING UP IN THE CART. Hands on the handle, tush in the air, pleased with himself. I stifle my scream, shove him down in the cart, and look around for social services, who MUST be watching me like hawks through the closed-circuit TV system they use to monitor security in the store. My sister says to me, totally deadpan "you are in so much trouble". No kidding. If he's standing in the cart at eleven months, what is going to happen at age two?