Have you ever stopped to wonder how many germs are actually killed with one bottle of Clorox? Or if your skin will actually fall off your bones if you use it too much?
Tee has been feigning illness for the better part of his educational existance with the, "My head hurts.", or the "My stomach hurts.", or the "I don't feel good, Momma (insert giant doe eyes)." only to come home early from school and somehow have a miraculous recovery.
He's lucky he's a good speller.
Trey and I finally made the call that, unless there was hard evidence such as vomiting and fever, the children were going to, and staying at, school.
Be careful what you wish for.
Like ghost-white little dominoes, they've all fallen. Graham on Sunday night, Sadie on Tuesday morning - in class mind you, not quite making it to the restroom - and Tee Tuesday night. I've still got to figure out some sort of apology gift for her teacher. I don't think Hallmark makes a card that properly communicates the sorrow I feel for my child vomiting in her classroom before Opening Chapel had even begun.
They might need to get on that.
Clorox and my washing machine have never been closer. We're like old friends who share thoughts and feelings. Actually, I'm the only one sharing thoughts and feelings because, you know, they're inanimate.
It's noon and I'm still in my bathrobe, on my second cup of coffee. I've barely left the house all week. I hear it's cold and people actually shower and wear make-up.
Jakeem and Levon, two little rascals from the neighborhood, have stopped by every afternoon to play but, to their obvious irritation, we keep turning them away...Jakeem...Jakeem...hmmm...that reminds me...
Jakeem came over about a week ago to play. He was here about four minutes before he asked for a snack and told me he felt sick in the same sentence. Moments later, he was vomiting in my bathroom.
Ok, Tee just woke up. Let me go make sure he still knows where the trash can or the commode is.
Yeah, I thought not.