Last week, it was my turn to host play date. My best friend was the first to arrive, and we spent some time hanging out in the kitchen while casually listening for sounds of bodily harm from the kids playing upstairs. My friend, Emily, made a comment about how lucky we were that our kids hadn't gone through any of the recurrent ear infection/colds/drama that some of our other friends' kids had. She muttered something about it being nice to have such healthy kids, and I chimed in with a remark about how Caroline hadn't even had one ear infection.
You could write the rest of this yourself, couldn't you.
Em's youngest (well, youngest for another week or two) went to a birthday party on Saturday and broke his arm in an accidental dogpile over a bouncy ball. Then, Wednesday, I took my normally gleeful Caroline to the doctor's office because she was merely cheerful and eating less. Double ear infection.
After I told Todd this story, he cast his eyes upward and loudly proclaimed, "Man, it's great being broke and poor!"
Alas, I don't believe it works like that.
