Someone in my son’s daycare doesn’t have their cootie shots.
So now I’m writing this blog post from my bed.
I’m home.
Typing. As my little one recovers from puking on his daycare teacher.
Fun.
Actually, ew. I feel for the woman.
And for my little boy.
It’s always lovely when your child catches something from another kid.
So I’ll be home with him trying to work in between wiping up and throwing out.
And disinfecting the entire apartment.
If I’m lucky, he’ll take a nap, and I will watch Top Chef off TiVo.
Actually the last thing I want to see is food right now.
Yeah, T minus 3 hours before I’m sick too.
Or at least until I need to change my clothes or give him a bath.
