Poor Tiggeroo is sick. Croupy, harsh cough that sounds like it is ripping his chest in half. Runny nose. Fever of 102.4 F.
I complain all the time about how busy he is; always getting into everything and how I can't turn my back on him for a second. And now, he just sits on my lap for hours on end, and cries if I put him down for any reason. Dare I say it? I miss his energy. It breaks my heart to see him so listless and sad.
"Are you okay?" I asked him this morning. "Oh Money, (combo of Mommy and Honey, I like to think;))", he said and started to cry. Then he toddled over to the couch and looked out the window to the driveway. "Daddy...." he whispered. Soon, soon, he'll be home soon. Mark is taking him to the dr's at 3:40. Will update after.
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