Buttload

One of the perks of having small children is they love you unconditionally, and they aren't afraid to show it. Whenever the mood strikes Lexi, she'll say, "I love you, Mommy," and lay a fat, slobbery kiss right on my lips, or cheek, or hair, or feet - wherever she wants to.

One of the anti-perks of having small children is they give you EVERY illness they EVER get (unless, of course, you are immune to it). Lexi has had a cold for a couple of days, yesterday being the worst day so far. Instead of clinging to a blanket or baby doll for comfort, she chose me as her security object. She wanted me to sleep with her, which really means she wants me to lay nose to snot nose with her until she falls asleep. She even wraps her little arm around my neck so I can't slip away undetected. She clutches me close, breathing germy breath all over my mucus membranes, just to ensure that I WILL catch her cold.

After we got up from our restless nap, she was feeling particularly blah. She decided the best way to remedy this was to crawl across the couch, kiss me on the face, and crawl back to the other side of the couch. 4,000 times.

So it was no surprise when I started swallowing buttloads of snot last night. (By the way, I think the word buttload should be brought back. Would you like to join the revolution with me and start using it whenever possible? Together, we can make it happen!)

Still, I'll take the endless displays of affection from my sweet little girl, even when she's sick, any day.