Cold Feet
Sunday morning, 6:58am. Not my idea of sleeping in, especially after spending half the night with my son whose cough reminds me of the call of a sea lion and whose temperature reminds me of a toaster oven. But what was I really expecting anyway? My daughter has decided to wake me up by crawling all over me, seemingly unaware of the fact that her knees and feet are kicking me in the gut and in the head.
Did I mention that it’s 12 degrees outside?!






















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