Woe is me

 I really, truly feel sorry for my girl. She's been battling a high temperature, sore throat and general malaise. But you know who I feel really sorry for - ME!

Just kidding, sort of. Having a sick child is no joke. Oh the whining and the whinging and the needing to be within 5 cm of me for the last 72 hours. Sheesh, that ride is rough. I don't like to complain about this Mummy gig often, but sick children, they seperate the women from the girls.

Hence the reason that there's been no Eastery bloggery. Easter was aeons ago (in blog years) but still the photos lie unloved and unedited on my memory card .

But there is an upside to sick littles. They are possibly even more hilarious than usual when under the weather I find. Maybe it's the 100.4 degree fever or maybe it's the generous dousing in Calpol.

Mummy - my Daddy smells just like cheese

Runs to me, snot streaming, full blown, wracking sobs

I told you to hurry Mumeee - we missed our train!!!!!!!

I just this minute put Grier back into bed for the third time in the last 15 minutes and she said as I layer on the 3 covers she insists on sleeping with,

Mummy, don't worry, you don't need to wipe my nose. I'll just lick it.