My little Mandy is sick now. Not what I had, what Sara had … vomiting. Poor little baby. She told me throwing up tastes yucky. Nothing I can do but rub her back and wipe her angelic little face. It ain’t easy being a parent sometimes and watching your little girl get sick is one of the worst. She’s resting now, watching “Bambi” with Jacob.
As soon as I got home this evening Jacob was saying, “I want KISS! Rock, roll all nite!” Ahh, that’s my boy. So we watched a bootleg DVD I bought last year of a 1977 Houston concert.
Sara’s back to her old self, the little social butterfly. Alex missed school again today with a sore throat and cough. Doesn’t seem to be strep, at least not yet.
So, I’m sitting here with the front door open because Sara is next door. The cat that adopted us when we moved in two years ago is sitting on the porch, looking into the house through the glass door. Amanda named the cat White Socks. After about a year of mooching food meant for the cat we actually adopted from the Ponca City Humane Society, White Socks will let me pet her, but no way will she actually enter the house. I tried carrying her in once when it was really cold out and she started clawing at me. Weird. She doesn’t seem to belong to anybody and spends almost all her time in our front or backyard, but she’s obviously spayed because there are several tom cats prowling around and she’s never been knocked up. I tried to get her to come in a few times tonight. She’d stretch her neck forward, look inside, look at me, then decide not to do it.
Time to get Jacob ready for bed.