hack, hack

spit. That's what I've been doing for the past week. Gross. I have this nasty cold bug that has settled into my chest in a nasty hacky way.
My sister came to visit this weekend with her gorgeous daughters Bryn and Tegan. Tegan is the same age as Parker and pretty close to perfect, right behind Parker (in the baby department, my kids have all departments of cute all wrapped up so don't even bother trying) who is totally perfect – except for the very loud "booobeee" that he yells at me at all the most inappropriate times. So, Tegan like Eliza has many, many , many allergies – all life-threatening. It's a little stressful to be around her, or more appropriately my sister. Eliza has had her allergies for three years now and in that time we have learned to mellow out, follow our instinct and trust that we can keep her safe. My OCD sister on the other hand stresses over each and every step and, literally, does not allow Tegan to ever be unsupervised. They will even sit up all night watching her sleep if they suspect that an allergic reaction may be occurring. I'm proud to say however that we made it through four days without any reactions. But, to get to the point my sister has taught Tegan to spit whenever she asks her to – it is the funniest, cutest thing seeing this little toddler bend over and verbally more than physically spit "patooo".