That's not exactly the way I was going to start this post, but one Samuel K Allison decided it should be and I will never say no to him. He is a miracle baby.
He made a suggestion and by suggestion I mean hunted me and the computer down and smashed the keyboard with impressive force before I could get away. He's not exactly subtle. And I'm not exactly quick today.
I'm trying to decide what kind of message he was trying to send me by typing the "250". Obviously he meant something by this; the kid is gifted.
250 chicken pox on his body?
250 times we've ready The Very Hungry Caterpillar TODAY?
250 times he's been over seeing my face?
250 reasons why he hates having chicken pox?
250 donut holes we've eaten since Friday?
The possibilities are endless.
|This is an "action" shot from Thursday. This is "action" to us right now.|
The reality is we are BORED. We are on day 5 of our 7-8 day quarantine and people, we are over this house. It is one thing to be a stay at home mom and wander this house all day. It is quite another thing to be stuck here. I can't have outside air and it's now outside air that I crave. This goes completely against my #1 life principle: do nothing, ever.
I'm not saying I'm going to do anything rash, but let's just say if our house burns down, this blog post never happened (for insurance reasons, obviously).
He's been in pajamas since Monday afternoon.
(Not the same pair! I may be losing it but I'm not at a neglectful stage of losing it yet).
We have a set route in the house to break up the hours between naps.
Oh, here's our one story from the Chicken Poxventure, since in five days this is about all that's happened: I tried to give him Benadryl before a nap to help with the itching sensation. Fun fact: Sam is one of the small percentage of children who get all sorts of hyper hypo from Benadryl and he was all over the place. Fun fact: When dealing with a sick child, the loss of a nap is grounds for divorce from the child. Not his fault, right right, but it felt like his fault. I mean, just be normal and get "considerably drowsy".
We will make it.
250 times today we've told each other that?
Thank god it's the weekend and this guy is home. And his Mom came over to play too. Hallelujah. We will make it.