Mommy isn't feeling so hot, either, which explains the lack of blogging. Somewhere in the air between St. Louis and Los Angeles, I went from feeling a little hoarse and sniffly to being too sick to care whether the plane crashed. (I didn't even drink-that's how serious the situation was.) Two minutes after we got home I crawled into bed, worthless, and didn't arise until well into the next day. Kurt followed suit shortly after. Only Jeff has remained unscathed by the many germs that plagued the Niehaus Christmas, and it's a good thing, because without Jeff, I don't know how Kurt and I would have gotten along.
I managed to get better enough to drag myself to work last night, but Kurt remains about as sick as ever. I don't mean to say he doesn't giggle sometimes when playing with Jeff, or light up when he sees the cats, but his lows are pretty low today. His little hoarse cries are heartbreaking.
So, the cupcakes are ready and the friends are waiting…we just need a little birthday boy who's a teensy bit better, and then we can have his Official Day.