Evie has her first cold... and its a doozie. Now, before you go feeling all sorry for me and sending me chocolate (my favorite is hazelnut flavored) and flowers (gerber daisies, please) I should admit to you that there is a bright side to the situation. Remember back when I admitted my nose picking habit? Well, turns out that the joy I get from digging for my own gold TOTALLY translates to picking my kid's nose, too.
It's like a game: the deeper they are in there, the more points you get... plus special bonus awards for size and color. Give me one of those squeezy-bulbs over a video controller any day, thank you.
Little-bit is no child of mine. I mean, she looooovves her baths. She just might be the cleanest newborn on the planet (side note: that may be the last time I get to refer to her as a "newborn" on the blog... since, as of Wednesday, my big THREE-MONTH-OLD will officially be considered a full blown infant. Just rip my heart out and put it through a meat-grinder, why don't you?! This growing-up-too-fast crap is way hard.)
There she is, that little Benedict Arnold... just lovin' that bath. I will do my best to change that. I can just see Evie and me in ten years, sitting on the couch all sweaty from a family run (we will not take a shower for at least 48 hours afterward) picking our noses and letting the dog lick our faces. Ahh... bliss.