I hate it when you are poorly. You can't tell me what hurts or how I can make you feel better. You cry like you're wondering why I'm not doing anything to help you.
Today we had a breakthrough. You lay on my lap, pointed to your tummy and said.... 'sore... sore...' in the saddest little voice I've ever heard.
If it wasn't so damn cute, I probably would've gotten your medicine a little bit quicker.