Monday, 13 February 2012

I get so emotional baby




Poor Whitney. Her voice was awesome and I imagine there are many other 30sthings like me who bopped around their bedrooms to her songs as youngsters. Anyway, the title of the song above sums up my sleepness night before Mr Baby's injections.

He is 8 weeks old today which meant a trip to the surgery for his immunisations against diptheria, tetanus, pertussis (whooping cough), polio, and Haemophilus influenzae type b (hib) Pneumococcal disease. He kept smiling at me in the morning, unaware of the massive betrayal I was about to inflict on him.

I think I might have looked upset when I arrived at the surgery as the ladies on the reception desk where exceptionally nice and the three of them seemed to be delighted when I asked them to hold the baby briefly while I ran outside to his pushchair to get a clean babygrow.

And it was awful. He looked so happy while I held him. Then he went purple with crying. But then my little tough guy smiled again. I've now stocked up with baby Calpol just in case he develops a fever, but for now he is enjoying season 4 of 30 Rock with me interspersed with bursts of Whitney.

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