My dog Maggi is sick today. I’ve been up with her since 4:30 am and now I’m at work. Fretting. She’ll be fine, it’s happened before and will happen again–she’s covertly eaten some nasty “alley surprise”–and now her stomach is all blown up like a balloon and she has that “Mom, please help me I’m dying” look on her wee little face. Steve is at home with her, but I will still fret. All day. I might even leave early.
Can you imagine if I had children? I would be the mother that puts her kid in a bubble by choice, rather than for disease protecting necessity. In fact, even though Susin is probably rolling her eyes so violently right now that they may pierce the back of her skull, I’d like to order this little man a bubble. I really would. It would have cool fun shit in it (with rounded soft corners) but it would be a bubble nonetheless.
If I had kids they would have to learn karate or something because otherwise, my kids would definitely get the shit kicked out of them.
Well, as much as the bubble would allow.
