My 3-month-old has a temperature of 102.7. You're probably thinking I'm handling her sickness like a pro, as she is my second child and I have already done this all before. Nope. I am freaking the fuck out. I don't think I've ever seen a temperature higher than 101 pop up on a thermometer before. Parenthood is ridiculously stressful - anyone that tells you any different is a lying sack of shit. (I'm sorry about all of the swearing but in addition to my infant being sick, so is my toddler - and I also have the MOTHERFUCKINGCOCKSUCKINGGODDAMNFLU).
Back to using your toddler as your mouthpiece.
I'm sitting in the waiting room at my infant's pediatrician's office. She is already really sick, and as she is 3-months-old, she doesn't have a totally developed immune system yet. Everyone knows that, right? Mom walks in with her two kids. One is a 7-year-old annoying know-it-all. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. The other is a 3-year-old "princess." I put "princess" in quotes because she's obviously not really a princess - but she's wearing a Cinderella Halloween costume that looks like it was purchased in 1998 and worn by every female in her family tree. Either that, or she wears it everyday to the point of tearing and filth. Gross.
She's coughing up a lung and bragging about how many times she's puked already today. She has snot rolling down her chin, and she keeps telling her mom she wants to "pet" my baby and she keeps inching closer to us until she is finally basically trying to sit on my lap.
I'm giving the mom the "get this sick kid away from me" death stare but she's one of those moms that thinks just because we share the commonality of both having grown things in our wombs, I'm going to have no problem with anything the fruit of her womb does.
Honey! Don't get so close. She probably doesn't want you touching her sick baby!
Ya think?
Oh, Sweetie, I don't think she wants you to pet the baby.
You don't pet babies lady, what the hell are you teaching this kid?
Sweetie, that's her chair, there's no room for you to sit on it too.
Really?
Did you tell the nice lady that you're Cinderella? Did you tell her that's your ball gown?
Someone stab me in the face.
This went on. And on. And on. For 20 minutes this lady "talked" at me through her child. It was the weirdest thing, ever.
Finally, Frankie's name was called.
Thank Christ they finally called us, because Mommy was about to lose her shit!
Two can play at this game.
