Brendan is having a rough week.
First, he has to deal with me constantly harassing him with, "Do you have to pee? Let's try. You can have a baseball sticker if you try." (All to great success, I might add).
Sunday night, he was awake for several hours with a puking session of unknown origin, but thankfully short duration.
Monday night brought a bizarre, trip-over-a-ball incident in the backyard which left him hobbling around with a twisted ankle (or some other foot injury) for two full days now. He can put weight on it, but the foot is swollen and he is quite limpy. I have been carrying his forty-pound body around like a sherpa (which has brought on my pregnancy lower back pain).
We are quite the hobbly pair.
Oh, the poor B. Hopefully, sunnier days lie ahead for the remainder of the week.
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