Honour has a raging case of pneumonia.
She’s carting a tote of various Extremely Powerful Medications (inhalers x2, crazy antibiotics with names I’ve never heard of, mucus thinners, et al.) and we are to watch carefully for signs she’s not getting enough oxygen.
I’m still up; I never went to bed last night because I was checking on her and had three other kids with impossible grumpiness and requests for tea and water and toast and nursing (this last, thankfully, only from Zuzu).
Doug is taking the day, mostly because I informed him wildly, with my unwashed hair sticking up in all directions, that as soon as I finished toasting the seventeenth piece of bread I was handing the baby to Meri and walking out and finding a new husband who would let me sleep.