Jake’s got a bit of a cold going on. Oddly, this seems to have skipped the sniffly-nose stage and just settled immediately into his chest. He’s otherwise perky and himself, until he gets so inclined to cough up a loogie, and then it hits the back of his throat and he gives me the most pathetic look. “What is that awful taste, Mom? And since I can’t muster the facial coordination to spit, what on earth should I do?!?” he seems to say with his eyes. Mostly though, he just makes a sound like “Guh-nuh” and when he makes it he sounds underwater.
So I stripped us both down and took a hotter-than-I-prefer shower with him, then sat in the steamy bathroom for like 10 minutes after that. Of course, no coughing that whole time, so Lane and I turned on the antics and brought out the Tickle Monster to get him to breathe deeply and elicit some productive coughs.