Or like this, if she's not wrapped up like a burrito...
Unfortunately, she looked like that for maybe three hours between 10pm last night and 6am this morning. The rest of the time, she looked like she ate a stink-bug and sounded like she was being dunked in an ice-bath.
A quick rhetorical question...when did the word "fussy" make its way into my vocabulary? Until a few days ago, I seriously don't think that word had ever come from my mouth. Now I say it or one of it's derivations like 50 times a day. Like this morning, when I told Rhoda that I was going to blog about how Rye fussed all night.
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