Dear Miss Annie Jane,
Well, you're sick. You have the most rotten cold/flu going round. In fact, you've given it to me. To be perfectly honest, you're coping very well. You still manage a smile or two when I'm changing your nappy and even have a sneaky grin for Octee the Octopus. You are a very good sick baby. It has to be said. You're easy to care for. All you want is to fall asleep in my arms, or with my boob in your mouth and occasionally have me suck snot from your nose with some contraption I picked up at the corner chemist.
Since you've been sick I have been having childhood flashbacks. All the things my mum use to do for me are coming to the forefront of my mind. Rubbing Vicks on your chest and back or into your sheets. Steaming eucalyptus oil in your room, even sitting you in the fan less bathroom as I take a shower, hoping the steam might loosen your phlegm. They could all be wives tales told too many times, or something might help. Either way, I am just trying my darn hardest to alleviate your suffering.
I took you to the Doctors the other day. She's a lovely women, our doctor. She finds you very sweet. Perhaps that's because every time she sees you, you're smiling and cooing at her. I look like the mad mother with Munchhausen's disease who 'thinks' her daughter is sick all the time when really she's just looking for attention. She checked your chest and your temp and all was fine. She said we have to wade it out and see how you feel in a couple of days. Right now you're asleep in your pram because that's the only thing that will work.
In the afternoons I wrap you up super warm and we head to the park with that crazy four legged monster Maggie. You like it in there, snug as a bug. You immediately fall into a soft sleep. I have noticed though that should you wake up halfway around the park, you'll open your eyes and take in some of what surrounds you. I guess that must be you growing up.
You have also started to notice Maggie more. You'll follow her around the room or watch her lying on a blanket next to you under my watchful gaze. The other day after an energetic trip to the park, Maggie jumped in the back of the car. Your car seats was facing her as she puffed and panted and dribbled all over the boot of the car. You thought it was hilarious.
Mumma and Dada have been utterly in love with you of late. You are becoming such a little miss. You know exactly want you want and seem to know all the tricks on how to get it. We cant help but want to kiss you. Every. Single. Moment. Of. Every. Single. Day. You're just too divine. I often wonder what you will be like when you're a little older. When you can walk and talk. But then I kick myself and remind myself to just enjoy these precious moments while they last. While you're little. While you're 15 weeks old.
Sleep well sweet one,