Poor Punkin
Kiddo’s dad is working the graveyard shift this week, which meant I got to pick him up last night instead of today after school.
In fifty-degree weather, he greeted me in a pair of pants, a sleeveless shirt (and shoes with no socks with drives me UP the wall, with all the squishy-toe images it inspires. blurgh) and NO jacket.
As we pulled away, a small voice piped up from the backseat, “Mom, do we have any sore throat medicine at home?”
He’s home sick today… snuggled into bed and resting. Poor Punkin.
