Is there anything sadder than the sound of a 4-month-old hacking like a two pack a day smoker? Or, instead of her usual high-pitched cry, a low "meeeeeh, meeeeh" sort of bleating sound as she looks up at me from her crib?
Well, yes. Even sadder than that is the sound of a hacking, bleating baby getting 3 vaccinations in her little fat baby thighs. And screaming her little stuffy head off.
And I suspect this is just the beginning. The handy dandy Baby 411 book I was reading at 2 this morning while waiting for the little bleater to fall back asleep tells me that there are over 100 variations of the cold virus, and that babies and toddlers basically keep getting sick until they've built up their immunity to all of them. So we have DOZENS more nights like last night ahead of us.
The silver lining (other than that I've been able to start catching up on TiVoed episodes of Grey's Anatomy and the absolutely awful Private Practice) is that I've been sick with the same bug and have lost my voice a bit, which the Mr. seems to think is tres sexy.
So, um, yay?