>Thanks Cinderella! That’s Just What I Needed Today . . .


Zoey woke up with a fever close to 103 this morning. And I mean ‘woke up’ in the loosest possible sense as she had been up most of the night. Crying. And asking for a “Hug-uhhhhhhh”. (A brief pause so you can get your tissues). While she got many ‘hug-uh’s’ last night she didn’t get a lot of shut eye. She kept choking on copious amounts of snot. That’s right: COPIOUS. This morning, at home with me, she was very whiney and grumpy and just generally pissed off. Every time she put a bite of food in her mouth she would begin screaming. And screaming. And screaming. She refused to drink anything. So, using my amazing mom powers, I thought, Hey! I wonder if she has strep or an ear infection! I even put up one finger and made an ah-ha! kind of face when I had the thought. Oh yes, the universal sign of I have just had a brilliant idea that will benefit all of humanity! Booya! So I took Zoey to the doctor, in her pajamas no less. She was that pathetic.

Once at the doctor’s office Zoey switched from whiney and pissy to charming and adorable. She flirted with the nurses. She said AH! on command. And, just as the doctor came in, my darling daughter began cramming fistfuls of Goldfish into her mouth. And, wait for it, there was no screaming. So I’m all, Uh, well this morning she had a fever and couldn’t eat without crying and, well, um, I AM AN INCOMPETENT PARENT. Zoey tested negative for strep, ear infections, and the flu. So we left. Some of us with less pride than when we came in. But still. Then this happened:

Zoey grabbed a complimentary sticker on the way out and promptly stuck in in her hair. HER HAIR, people! And let’s look at that sticker more closely, shall we?
Yes, it is a Cinderella sticker. Do I need to remind you how I feel about princesses? Hm? Do I? I do not feel good about them. DO NOT. You know what else I don’t feel good about? Scissors. Especially in my daughters beautiful curls.


2 thoughts on “>Thanks Cinderella! That’s Just What I Needed Today . . .

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