God grant me strength.
EDIT: Okay, I guess that was cryptic.
Basically I had this great day where I felt better than I have in weeks; I cleaned, I grocery shopped, I worked; the kids came home from school and we baked in preparation of Monkey’s Thankgiving play and “feast” tomorrow; we had dinner; and then while I was loading the dishwasher and the kids were (I thought) getting ready for bed, actually Monkey was puking his guts out.
To his credit, his aim was true. Huzzah!
I was patting his back and stroking his hair while he finished up, and Chickadee stuck her head in the bathroom and asked when we’d be leaving. “Leaving?” I asked.
“Yeah, you’re taking him to Daddy’s, right?” Well, what did I expect from the child who responded to exhortations to eat her breakfast this morning with a pointed stare through a kaleidoscope and a “WOW, Mama, you have about a million heads!” declaration?
I’ll let him stay, because he’s cute and pitiful. (I contented myself with leaving a phone message for my ex. “Hi! I hate you!”) But if I get sick, it’s off with his head.