I am feeling very sorry for myself today. I have a horrible cold, of the contstantly runy nose and whole-body sneezes variety, and it is making me feel very bleurgh and even less with it than normal. Take yesterday, when I was applying cream to The Baby's fungal rash on her back, I suddenly realised that Daktarin doesn't usually smell minty. Toothpaste, however, does. Oops.
The slowing down of thought process and reflexes that usually accompanies a cold has unhappily coincided with the transformation of The Baby into DangerBaby. If there is a precipice, DangerBaby will try and throw herself off it. If there is a wire, DangerBaby will try and tangle herself in it. If there is a hard object, DangerBaby will fling herself upon it. Over the last two days, she has fallen backwards onto the floor 3 times, hit the top of her head on the laptop table twice, chinned the laptop table once, been caught by her ankles while diving off the sofa 4 times, and dug her nails into my skin while trying to climb over me too many times to count. And all I want is for her to sit quietly on the floor playing with her stacking cups while I loll on the sofa wondering if this is as bad as Man Flu.
Thankfully The Best Husband In The World (as he shall be known until he does something stupid like put all the forks in the dishwasher upside-down) has informed me he is taking her out tomorrow morning to give me a rest. This is fabulous news.
Going to go and have a bath now and watch last week's Masterchef. That should make me feel better. Unless they all cook scallops with pea puree again. Then I'll get annoyed. I realise it's a very irrational thing to get annoyed about, but there are other ingredients, you know.
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