Ahhhh. Boogers and snot. Yes, we keep it clee-assy on this here blog o' mine.
Nothing but the best for my readers.
Bodily fluids anyone? We've got plenty of them around our house these days, specifically coming out of the nose of Annabel. It's like a continuous faucet of yellow mucus. I wipe it away, turn my head, and there is more in its stead.
Anyhoo, she has been Little Miss Snotty McSnotterson since Thanksgiving-ish. On Sunday, it turned into a full-blown flu, complete with fever and a hacking cough, and of course, there was a major showing of our omnipresent friend, Runny Nose. (What a great for a name for a Kentucky Derby racehorse by the way.)
You know your child is sick when they are not interested in movement of any kind. Annabel laid on the couch for the majority of Monday and visited with all her friends from Nick Jr., which was great, since it was "Merry Monday." However, that a-hole, Caillou, kept trying to bust in on all the fun. Luckily I put a stop to that because I was all, "Dude, am-scray. We're watching Dora save Swiper from Santa's Naughty List. PBS is not where it's at today. Hit the skids, baldie." And he disappeared. Just like that. I think he's scared of me, and he should be. I have a remote, and I'm not afraid to use it.
By Tuesday, Annabel was 85% better, and by today, she was about 99.9% back to her normal, active self. Although I must say that she was still very much sporting a runny nose and a cough. But these Christmas presents aren't going to buy themselves, so into the minivan she went with me to Target.
We stopped at the uber-fantabulous Dollar Spot, to see if there were any good stocking stuffers for the kids. Just as I had my eye on a sa-weet little lip balm in the shape of a can of Pepsi, (Henry needs a 12-step program for lip balm in a major way) Annabel started coughing. And coughing. And coughing.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" I asked.
"Do you want some water bottle?"
Okay. Back to checking out a pair of "Cars" socks that I know George will heart.
Cough. Cough. Cough.
Did I mention that there was a lady in the DS with me? (Get down with the Target lingo, peeps.) She kept looking over at Annabel and I, and I could tell she was getting more disgusted by the minute. But it's not like Annabel was snotting (Yes, Grammar Police, at least it sounds better than "boogering". Mmmmkay?) all over the Charlie Brown coloring books or the Hello Kitty hair bows. She was just coughing. Not a pleasant sound, but come on. Surely a child has coughed in the general vicinity of the DS before.
Then this lady spoke to Annabel. "Wow! That's quite a cough you got there! You should be at home resting and not shopping!"
Oh yes she did.
Annabel, my TWO-year old, looked at her, and then looked at me with a Huh?-What-is-the-tall -lady-saying-to-me? kind of face. And then, I kid you not, she coughed up a small portion of her lung right there in the DS.
Well played, Annabel. Well played.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't a small portion of her lung, but it was a hacky, mucousy good one. Seriously lady. Taking it up with a two-year old? I'm standing right here. You've made your passive-aggressive point perfectly. I get it. You're disgusted with us. I'm a sucky mom because I brought my perfectly fine-but-slightly-coughing daughter to Target at Christmastime. People like me aren't fit to be parents. Blah. Blah. Blah.
Walk on, lady. Walk. On. It's a big store. I hear the Thera-Flu aisle calling your name. You might need some after your encounter with Mommy Horrible and Daughter Disgusting Nose. Beat it.
Of course I was just kind of stunned that she would actually say something to not me, but my daughter, so I smiled at her and politely said, "Oh yeah it sounds awful, but she's okay. She's much better now. You should have heard her a few days ago." Then I steered Annabel to another section of the store.
It's called the high road, be-otch. Try it sometime.