101.8

That's how hot The Kid's armpit is right now. Poor baby. He's sick. He's got that bleary-eyed flu-pathetic-delirious thing going, where he can't get comfortable. He can't complete sentences, and he is at once adorable and whiny. Flu-time is the only time where sweet and whiny can coexist. So, he's laying on the couch, where he's been when he tried to drink a mug of soup three hours ago, but then it quickly turned into fitful sleep. He's been sleeping for about two hours, where he finally settles into a comfortable sleep until he moves to another position, and the equilibrium he'd previously built up in his nasal cavity is compromised, causing a mucal tidal wave inside his head. Then the coughing resumes. It's sad, yo.