Andy is sick. Again. This seems to be the billionth time this month or perhaps it's just the third. Regardless, the little chicken doesn't feel good and he's making the rest of us suffer. I can't say I blame him for exerting his power over us, but still. Andy refused to go to sleep last night, instead he woke up every 15-30 minutes crying. He didn't seem to have any obvious wrong - ears didn't hurt, stomach didn't hurt, he wasn't hungry. I kept thinking he was just overtired and would eventually tucker himself out, but he didn't.
About 3 ish after going back and forth from our bed to his while Bjorn slept through most of it, I took Andy down for a glass of milk and orange juice along with a small cocktail of children's Tylenol. He seemed in better spirits so I went up, plunked him with his binky and Jeff dog into bed with Bjorn, announced Bjorn was in charge and promptly went to sleep in the computer room. About 6, I woke up, moved Andy back to his bed and slept the extra hour until about 7. Boy, are we tired today. He doesn't seem to have anything obvious wrong (although now that I type this, I'm wishing I took him to the doctor to see if there was anything I was missing). He is getting his back molars that seems to be pissing him off somewhat.
To complicate matters, we're in the middle of a "I want Daddy, not Mommy. No Mommy!" phase which is a little hard to hear sometimes. I know, I got most of the first two years and the pendulum will likely shift again before you know it, but it's hard to be so out of favor. I'm sure that's how politicians feel.
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