Santa's Little Helper

Peanut came down with her first fever yesterday, accompanied by a junky cough and slightly runny nose. It wasn't super high, but any fever is too high when you are two first-time parents about to go out on the town. Thank heaven for Grandma, whose fever-caring qualities I can vouch for personally. She even got Peanut to bed at a reasonable time. This morning the fever is down, but the rash on her chest scared the bejeezus out of T., who was afraid she had become horribly infected with something life-threatening. Drilled, however, in the dire consequences of waking me up from sleep since the dawn of our marriage (though I keep telling him if it is about the baby to go ahead), he didn't wake me or call the doctor or anything like that. Anyway, her fever is down this morning and she seems to be feeling herself again, meaning she is lying on her mat waving toys around and trying to grab the cat. We'll see how the day goes.

Our night on the town was supposed to be dinner at a new Irish pub and seeing our friend's band play. But the information I had gotten that they were opening for this show was incorrect--they were playing last, which meant we would have to stay up past our bedtimes to go. We tried, we really did, but we are old. But dinner was really good, at least on my end. I feel bad, because the dinner was for T.'s birthday, but I got the good meal (bangers and mash, the sausage homemade and flavored with rosemary and with baked apples on top, mmm), and his was only so-so (Guiness Irish stew, which you would figure would be a priority to have really good in an Irish restaurant). Anyway, the only excitement for the evening was watching people dressed as Santa Claus trickle down from the upstairs bar in groups of two and three and run off into the night. Apparently Santa's Helpers had their Christmas party at Brocach Bar last night.