Aren't we, those of us who care for small children, funny in the things we're proud of! This morning, on hearing Janae singing to herself I went in to get her out of bed. She was sitting up talking to teddy and she looked up, pointed at her nappy and said "Look, poo, dirty." I was so excited. We've been trying to teach her to tell us when her nappy needs changing . . . as the first step to potty training. She's a bright we spark (yes I'm very biased) so I'm impressed with her ability to learn so quickly. Next we have to teach her to tell us when she wants to go.
It also helps that I'm starting to feel human again. I'm by no means recovered but can breath through my nose and the golf ball sized glands are slowly shrinking. I have to laugh though as late last night as I lay in bed reading Pride and Prejudice and I looked around my bed I thought of Jane Bennett and her sick bed at Netherfield Hall. I just couldn't imagine that her bed even closely resembled mine. I'm sure Jane's bed wasn't strewn with tissues, some used, some doused in eucalyptus oil; I can guarantee her bed wasn't littered with cough lollie papers, an inhaler, bottles of water and clothes discarded as temperatures rose. You see, as little as I resemble Jane Bennett there's always the hope that one day I may have all the decorum, taste and gentleness of one of Austen's greatest characters. Alas, it's not to be. Never mind, it's not so bad being me!