Day three of chicken pox – or ‘chicken pops’ as Izzy calls them – and she is covered from head to toe. She’s been up most of the night, wriggling and scratching in our bed, only going back to sleep in her own bed once I camped down on her floor in a sleeping bag. So cue two very tired parents today – one at work and one blogging in an effort not to fall asleep on the sofa while Izzy watches Disney Junior.

I spent the week before our holiday praying that she hadn’t caught the dreaded chicken pox from her cousin. Or any of the kids at school, nursery or the various playgroups she goes to. Luckily she avoided the current outbreak until we got home.

As our trip was over I wasn’t concerned about her getting it. To be honest I wanted it out of the way before Baby is here. But my nonchalant attitude to ‘a few spots’ has been replaced by deep sympathy. I didn’t quite realise how horrific the spots are. They look so painful and angry and typically Izzy is not a fan of me putting on any cream. So it’s been a long couple of days. At least its the weekend so there will be two of us on the case. Bagsy not the 3am shift…


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