My MIL, bless her, agreed to stay with my diseased children today so Dylan and I could go to work. Yay? She already had stayed with Noah yesterday and even offered to come tomorrow if we need her though I might just cry 'Uncle!' and stay home with them should the need 'arise'.
*Wipes tears of mirth at own cleverness*
I called home a bit ago to check on how things were going and if she had been reduced to mute rocking in the corner and...things were good. Both kids were down for a nap though Noelle is on our bed making for a particularly exciting game of 'Will She or Won't She'. (Gentlemen, place your bets.) Noah, he apparently turned the corner eating, well, everything in sight. Mostly of the sweet carbohydrate persuasion. He felt well enough to don the apparel of his alter-ego du jour, Batman (complete with crown and wand - there is no reason why Caped Crusaders can't feel special after all), and run around the house like a complete loon. THEN he wanted to go outside and play up/down/spin around/fall down/wiggle. (I blame Yo Gabba Gabba for this Bee Tee Dubs.) This would be a marked transformation from the toddler I found this morning with sweat and sick sculpting his hair into a directionally-challenged mohawk.
Noelle actually had cause to use her barf bowl but because it was pink, she chose not to despoil it opting instead for the family room carpet. I thank my lucky stars that I had borrowed my best friend's steam cleaner and had not returned it yet.
I wonder if Alice would take care of us?
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