Ordinarily, when WonderBaby gets sick – which is to say, every single time she has ever gotten sick – you wouldn’t know it to look at her. She remains bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ever-inclined to climb bookcases and o’er-leap small sectionals and such, and while this can be very, very frustrating, it nonetheless keeps worry at bay.
Which is why today, I’m worried. She is feverish – which happens – and limp-limbed and quiet and malaised – which never, ever happens, not with her.
So off to the hospital we go. This is the part of parenting that sucks the most, the very most: the knots of worry that pull at your gut, that sicken you, when there seems to be something wrong with your child, something that you can’t figure out but you know is bad. I hate this.
UPDATE: Infected tonsils; possibly strep throat; very definitely sick, sick, sick and contagious (which means, mommy-kisses need to be limited). Have to wait and see how she responds to treatment now. Poor baby. POOR MOMMY.