The strep throat seeped into Steve’s body this morning and he’s been laying in bed all day, moaning and writhing and asking me to dip a wash cloth in cool water for him to drape across his forehead. I know it’s selfish of me to feel this way, but I am just going to say it: I AM 89 MONTHS PREGNANT AND I DON’T WANT TO DIP A WASH CLOTH IN THE WATER FOR YOU. I want someone to rub MY feet and buy me and ice cream cone and give me a back massage and a pedicure to reward me for making it this far and for hauling around a 40-pound belly and a 30-pound toddler all day.
Here’s hoping he feels better tomorrow. Oh, and that I don’t catch the bug.