Sometimes you just need an outfit to slap the sick right out of you and kick you out the door. Preferably one with a peplum top to encourage optimal recovery with comfort food. But one that still looks relatively weaponized/pointy/un-huggable and distinctly says, "do not touch or shake my hands with your nasty ol' flu germs, please and thank you."
So I have to tell you about this, it absolutely thrilled me yesterday. Everett still isn't walking or standing without support. Which is just fine of course. We're all for doing things at your own pace over here. He mastered the stairs early on, so you know, mazel tov to him on that. Very proud. ANYWAY. I had him standing in front of me playing this balance game, where I'd let go and he'd fall forward into my arms, lots of fun all around. Well this girl walks by, right. I'M still playing the game, so I stand him up again and let go. BOOM! He's just standing there. Two little wobbling legs, slightly bent at the knee, all by himself. He is mesmerized watching this tiny little thing walk closer and closer to him. She finally gets to us, reaches over and rubs the chubby pads on top of Everett's feet and he's STILL standing! Then she walks away and he falls down. But it was maybe a full minute of nothing but glorious wobbly legs! I tried all day to get him to do it again, but ALAS, that tiny girl possessed a magic that I do not.
When's the right time, do you think, to tell him that girls are poisonous and he's living with me forever? ;)