There's just something about a child's infernal whining that can make any sane person climb a wall, smash a plate, or gnaw their eyes out with their dentures. And that particular whining, friends, happens to belong to my almost-10 month old whenever he's down with a cold.
It's grating, and has the capacity to suck the life-force out of you the way ah peks at Tiong Bahru market suck the marrow from bones. It builds from a small whimper to a crescendo, culminating in a full-blown wail. WAIL if you don't pick him up on time. WAIL if you put him back in the cot before he's fully asleep. WAIL if you remove him from harm's way. WAIL if you remove the piece of paper he's slowly mulching in his mouth, making its way to his digestive tract.
But oh joy when he's recovered, and the twinkle returns to his eye! Now I just need to retrain him in the art of resettling himself to sleep, and maybe, just maybe, I can get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep!
PS. Will post the pics from our weekend away to Queenscliff soon.
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