Head colds are never exactly fun. Not in the best of circumstances.
But having your first nasty cold in over a year, and then having your newborn catch it from you, well, that sucks royal monkey ass.
I honestly don't know how she does it, but our Peanut has managed to maintain her happy-go-lucky demeanor with a head full of snot. She snorfles and coughs and gags and makes mucousy gurgling noises all day and all night. She whimpers when I put saline drops up her schnoz and suction out the boogers. And then she smiles at me.
She doesn't get that from me, that's for sure. I've been a foul mouthed grouch since I first started sniffling. I grumble all day and all night, pausing only to hurl invectives and accusations at my poor, beleaguered, long-suffering husband. And by last night he, patient though he is, had had just enough sleep deprivation and aggravation to take the bait.
Somehow, the smunchkin managed to snore her way through what shall forever be known in our household as the St. Valentines Day Massacre.
We could learn a thing or two from her.