F.U., virus!

For the past week, three of the kids have had little coughs, followed by asthma from Henry and Olivia. Just when I thought we were through the worst of it, I mean, they were all great over the weekend, for crying out loud, but then, last night. All four went to bed with fevers and Grace woke up vomiting. They're getting so good at catching their own barf in the bowls which I strategically place around the house. Unfortunately, Grace couldn't find her designated bowl in the dark, so by the time I reached her room, there she was, holding her shirt out at the bottom like she was collecting apples and spewing into it. I couldn't have been more proud. Not a drop on her bedding. Her mullet was plastered to the side of her head with sweat, though, so I brought her into my bed for the remainder of the night.

This morning, I went into Jack's room to wake him for school and stuck the thermometer into his sleeping ear.

"Do I have a fever?" He mumbled with his eyes still closed.

"Yes." I said, sympathetically.

"Sweet!" and he rolled over and buried his head back in the pillow.