Kids are feeling slightly better, at 37.8 (a little over 100F) and 37.5 (can’t be bothered to convert that, sorry) respectively. Me First woke up with a rash all over his arms and legs. Me Too’s mouth is full of sores. Of course the clincher is that neither of them have both rash on arms and legs and sores, so their dr says it isn’t Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. I think there’s another English name for that which is more common, but I can’t think of it.
Mainly because I’m at 38.8 (102F) myself. Should be a fun weekend, watching the other shoe drop. Thankfully, MIL had neither ground golf nor scrapbooking today. She helped me transport the kids to the doctor, fed them lunch while I slept, and sent us home with supplies. The most important of these is ice cream. Me Too and I have no interest in food, but ice cream is good. Laced with morphine would be fantastico, but I’ll take what a can get. Advil has proven to be the nectar of the gods for me this afternoon. It seems like I’ve lost at least twenty pounds, straight from my throbbing head.
Me First had a terrible night last night, moaning and groaning and waking up every twenty minutes or so. HRH got frustrated and yelled at him.
Another fine moment in fathering, I suppose.
He then closed the damn window. The kids and I were stifling hot, sweaty, and extremely uncomfortable. Will try to get him to sleep elsewhere tonight, otherwise will claim
Elsewhere for myself. I haven’t really had much sleep since Monday, and now it’s his turn, don’t you think? Though I’m sure the kids will sleep like logs now that they are less feverish. Or he’ll pull a Man Cold and the world will end.
The kids are, fortunately for me, still not 100%, and though they were at each other’s throats all morning, they don’t seem to have the energy to do much of anything now. I put out the laundry and will feed them what they can stomach, but other than that I am not moving off the couch until I move into my futon later this evening. Hopefully with the window open.