Your children are all sick. Snot runs from their noses like butterscotch syrup on a summer day. The only sounds you hear are their continuous hacks in a desperate effort to dispel the fluid from their lungs. Two of the three have droopy, gunk-filled eyes. The probability of a doctor’s visit the next day is 100%, barring a religious miracle.
When all three of them wolf down their dinners as though they’ve never been properly fed, do you
A) Plop them down in front of the television, turn on professional wrestling, take your six-pack of Schlitz and your shotgun in the back yard, and take pot shots at squirrels.
B) March them upstairs, read them stories, and put them to bed early in the hope that their little heads won’t explode from the overflowing mucus.
C) Give them each a towering bowl of ice cream and just when the sugar rush kicks in, break out a new Chutes and Ladders game.
If you guessed A, have no fear. Your six dogs probably watched over the little ‘uns from their home under your half-collapsed porch. And them squirrels make for good soup as I heard tell. You get one point provided you still have that many teeth.
If you guessed B, go straight to the Parenting Hall of Fame. You get 10 points. I hate you.
If you guessed C, welcome to the family.
We made it about a third of the way up the board, before they just couldn’t sit still anymore. Noah was the worst, leaning over and moving his guy up the longest ladder on the board every ten seconds or so. Sam wanted to be on someone’s team, but as his brothers can’t count yet, he was told that because he was older, he was lucky and could be on his own team. Not for one second did Sam buy that one. Aidan switched teams from me to Leah midway through. Not sure why.
Bedtime last night was like herding cats.
Cats with respiratory distress and hyperactive mucus membranes.
