So Sweet, Like An Angel

When your child is sick, it touches your heart with caring and sympathy.

To gaze on the sweet face of the one you love more than life itself, eyes closed and cheeks flushed with fever, brings out a protective instinct both fierce and tender. All you want to do is nurture your little one back to health.

When all you can do is bring her juice and popsicles, and make sure she's snuggled under her favorite blanket while she sleeps, you feel terribly helpless yet perfectly fulfilled. This is why you became a mother, to take care of your little angel in her time of need.

And the day she wakes up with the familiar happy light in her eyes, and smiles and tells you she feels better, that day fills you with joy and makes you thank God that the sickness has passed and your baby is healthy again.

Then, when you go to work with a splitting headache and a nagging sore throat, and you realize that she's given you what she had, you want to send her to her room until she's 31.

Because who's going to bring you a freaking popsicle when you're home sick? Huh?

Not him.

Noooo...you nurse freaking everyone when they get the sniffles, but when you're on your deathbed with inherited germs, who takes care of you?

All the monkey nurses are booked solid.

No one, that's who. Ingrates.

Well...OK.

 I'm glad you're feeling better, Precocious Daughter. I love you. But I have two words for you: Raspberry Creamsicles. I'm putting my order in now. Now get off the couch, Mommy feels a Judge Mathis marathon coming on.