sickness is upon us.
ivy has missed every day of school since the first. she is distraught about it.
poor ted is going psycho with cabin-fever (it's been raining for a week and he's too sick to go anywhere.)
and miss george took another visit to the hospital last night when her breathing became laboured and scary. she's got bronchiolitis. she looks snotty and miserable and confused, and is only happy upright and in arms...hence one-handed typing.
i am exhausted.
worried about this little baby,
running outa entertaining ideas.
ivy and ted made beds in baskets and played sleeping beauty.
this pic showcases their acting abilities.
gosh this makes me laugh.
but george is just thinking 'holy mary. what is with these clowns?'
a knee-length crotch on his stripey stockings didn't impair ted's form on the indoor hopscotch field.
but behold the little athlete below, captured with tell-tale milo moustache. i turned my back yesterday and half-caught ivy whispering 'you can eat as much as you want ted..'
and when i turned around i found teddy, enthusiastically necking back a huge handful of milo. i sent him to his room but as he whimpered past i remembered the snippet of conversation i had caught.
'wait' - i said 'why did you eat that milo ted? you know that's naughty.'
'ivy said it would turn me into a fairy' he wept.
i changed sides, and sent ivy off in disgrace.
when she came back she had to tell teddy 'i'm sorry for making you do a naughty thing.'
i'm sure a little part of her hoped against hope the fairy thing might work.
on the upsdie, popcorn and a dose of happy feet is always good.
however, trying to take a squirmy three-year-olds temperature with more children than i have hands is a tricky business.