The Pity Factory

Collin is sick. I can count on one hand the number of times this kid has been sick in his lifetime, so he really plays it for all it's worth and it works. The concept of stuffy nose is so foreign to him, he freaks out when it happens and wakes up every twenty minutes in sheer panic, consequently we have to sleep on the floor next to his bed to remind him that yeah, it's okay to have a cold. Leave it to my independent kid to not actually need us to snuggle him, of course. "On the floor with you, ma and pa!"

Still, how pitiful is this? Teaching the art of nose blowing to a toddler is a feat in itself; especially when they aren't in need of doing it all that often. So, we are graced with the whopper sneeze every so often, complete with snot hosing down his face. It's a thing of beauty, I tell you. Poor baby. I think he's milking it for the endless t.v. time he's getting today. What do you think? I heard the words, "Mommy, I LOVE Tinkerbell. I do. I really do," today as we watched Peter Pan for the umpteenth time. Maybe it's the delirium of the zillion degree fever.