My poor baby. She went from eight spots to around eighty by this evening – covered in calamine lotion (we have three bottles of the stuff, possibly a bit extreme but hey) and packed off to bed early. She had a pyjama day, and it’s possibly the first time she’s ever spent an entire day in the same clothes – she knows she isn’t 100%, although she’s still bounding around like there’s nothing wrong. The spots give it away…
Even better, she had aher pyjama day with daddy and did tons of things while I was at work. I got a card from them both which cheered my day up.
They made castles with megabloks…
and H chalked all over her blackboard, and wrote her name a few more times
had her nails painted by daddy (now THAT I would have liked to have seen)
they listened to the Chris & Pui album
they became Disney Princesses (another ‘would like to see’)
opened another door on the Eric Carle advent calendar
ate some of my Lindt chocolate on my advent calendar
planned a pretend birthday party for me (I’m going to be 11 – “we can pretend we have eleven candles Mummy” – and have real cakes made from plastic Lego) for tomorrow while daddy studies
and I’ve got the weekend plus two days off next week (thank you work) with H to look after her, so things are all good. It’s not so bad having chicken pox after all – in fact, it sounds quite fun.