I will spare you yucky (and they are yucky) details, but the germs we thought we beat rallied and made a new charge last night. Our girls are sick. Worst news is the Cowgirl is supposed to be the "Mouse" in the "Lion and the Mouse" school play Thursday night. She might just sound like a mouse because she lost her voice and can only squeak.
Way to get into character, kid.
Worried looks are being exchanged over here.
There goes the fun birthday party at an indoor pool today. (And I bought a kick-butt present for the gal, too. Can you say kick-butt when referring to gifts for eight year olds?)
I will write later and I give my firm promise that it will not be a medical chart of their symptoms.
It's all just general grossness.
Good news is that the worst month of the year (the one they couldn't even make thirty days long because no one could stand it for that long) is almost over.
Come back, spring.
Come back. (Imagine me holding out my arm in a dramatic fashion, beckoning across the frozen snow to the rising sun. You'll have to imagine it because I am really just typing and thinking that I need to go wash the sheets. Oh, well.)