Poor, Poor Howler Baby

The Howler is sick. Actually, truly, definitely sick.

Sniffles started about 10 days ago, and we've been doing the Aunt Millie Shuffle since. (My Sweetie's Aunt Millie would obsess about colds...said she had a cold for 7 years once. Same cold. No matter how many times it cleared up, it was exactly the same cold when she caught it again. And don't even ask about bridges or railroad crossings.)

Anyway, the sniffles developed into flat out congestion. Then, over the weekend, coughing. Today, she woke up with a sore throat. My Sweetie, God love him, grabbed a flashlight and wanted "to take a look." I told him to not bother--I'd already decided yesterday that I'd be calling the doc today, so there's no point in giving Aunt Millie Jr something more to obsess about.

She didn't go to school, and the earliest the doc can see her is 3pm. I work at 4. That means the Little Mister is going to the doc's with us.

No, not because Dad can't handle it, but because I do better at making sure my Howler is well taken care of (remember, I argued against the antibiotic, and I don't let them blow off that little wheeze when they hear it--and yes, sometimes the docs in this practice try to do that.)

I have no desire to spend any part of Christmas in the ER with an asthma attack, and I refuse to be lazy enough (I know, amazing...the Slacker Mom is all proactive and demanding when it comes to NOT having the usual asthma experiences) to end up with her actually admitted to the pediatric ward. Haven't yet, and don't plan on it EVER.

So the poor poor Howler baby is playing the Aunt Millie angle to the hilt...and whinging every chance she gets.