Surviving your toddler’s cold
There he is, seated on the love-seat next to the kitchen. In his striped onesie. Trying to blow his nose. “Morning love,” I say. “Borning,” he manages. He is adorable. “You hungry?” “Yeb, pleebe.” “How about some eggs?” He nods sadly. “Pleebe.” Poor guy looks so exhausted. I know that he didn’t sleep well last…