That business you pulled in our house from January to April ain't happenin' again. Do you hear me? Do you understand me? It was awful. You turned me into a true believer of hand washing and sanitizing and quarantining. Of Puffs Plus and Children's Benadryl. Of Bacchus and liquid grapes.
Each and EVERY time we ventured out of the house, just a day after their leaky little snot faucets dried up, we ran into a snotty nosed child running all over the play equipment. One whose mother was not exhausted from taking care of two children under two years of age with two runny noses and four watery eyes and two sore throats for four months.
So, I just stayed away from all things play. I kept us all locked up in this house. Just us and the Sickie Ickies. And I cannot do that again. My husband may leave me if he has to come home to That Wife again.
This is day seven, kiddo numero uno. Show some manners and spare the baby. The girls are getting antsy. I'm starting to drink more. Let's wrap this play date up. Consider this your eviction notice.
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