Snortie.

by

Dear Snort,

I’m writing this Thursday late afternoon, it is publishing Saturday morning, you may be reading it ten or twenty years from now. But I hope on Saturday morning your ear hurts less. This morning when I put the thermometer in your ear (you’re been SO HOT this week, little one) you screamed and pulled back and it was pretty much awful. The doctor barely peeked into your ear before telling us you had a serious ear infection.

I’m sorry about that. I know I couldn’t stop it from happening, and I know in order to make it stop hurting I have to give you The Devil Medicine. When you run and hide from it, when you flop around like an angry seal to avoid the syringe, when I accidentally scratched you with my fingernail while I was trying flip you onto your back – well, it was all awful.

Sorry, kiddo.

If you feel better Saturday we’re seeing your grown up friend, and she’s going to come with us to soft play because she’s only 19 or 20 and can run around and climb into small spaces. I will take pictures. Right now I don’t know if you – or Coconut – will feel up to the fun.

Don’t worry.

We will do it again sometime.

I love you.

Mama

PS You LOVE the Crystal Maze. You’ve been so miserably sad and tired this late afternoon, and the only thing that stopped you crying was that sweet, sweet game show. Though of course the anxiety of whether or not the people would find the crystal in various games made you whimper. Oh, my.

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