It's like herding cats...

I’ve heard that statement a good bit lately and pondered its meaning. Well, after tonight I can, with great authority, tell you what it means. Obviously it was a comment made by someone who has three little boys, probably ages 9, 7, and 3 they were responsible for keeping together in one big house.

It is highly likely that one or more of the three could be found in an entirely different part of the house in one of three levels that constitutes their home. You just have to make sure your one body can keep tabs on the three of them. Cats would be more easily herded, I’m sure. And anyone who knows anything about cats realizes that is virtually impossible. Cats have wills and minds of their own. So do kids.

Oh wait, did I say there were three of them to herd? Well, yeah, in my case there were three little boys, but I forgot to add the newest little baby girl in the family,
and she was right there with the three little boys. She was just about as devilish and as active as
they were.

We picked the boys up at the day care center afternoon just before 4:00. Surprise for us…Beautiful Blue Eyes (3) and child number 3 greeted us warmly and was ready to go home with us. His Dad said this morning when he reminded him we would be picking them up, he wanted to take one of his toys over to Grandmomma and Granddaddy’s house. (Though we were only going back to his house.)

When he first saw us he came over and what were the first words out of his mouth? “Where’s Annabelle?” She’s the baby in the whole family. I think he thinks she lives at my house. I have told him in the past that Granddaddy and I will arrange to pick him up sometimes and bring Annabelle with us. I guess he was hoping this would be the time.

Once we were all safely back at their house, the three of them decided to play a nice quiet (ha, ha) game of Nerf darts with their Nerf guns. They each took careful aim at each other as well as every window in the living area.

I was afraid one might pop the windows. Please, not on my watch. Wait until Daddy gets home.
They romped and ran and hid and screamed at each other as they fought their battles. They lost the darts and Sophie found them.
She would scamper away like the little thief she was,
leaving BBE, AKA James, the human baby in the family, very frustrated as he tried to catch her without luck. The Analyzer, AKA Carter the oldest brother, would finally intercede and take the dart away and return it to BBE, over and over and over.

Then Sophie found an over sized tennis shoe that probably fit the 9 year old. She chewed a while until I took it away from her. She loves their stuffed dogs and other toys. She chews with those little sharp teeth and broke off a piece of what had just been the very favorite toy of the seven year old when his three-year old brother wanted to play with it. I had to throw that broken piece into the trash can. He forgave Sophie even after she broke his toy. Little Brother would never have been forgiven so easily. It’s amazing the working of a child’s mind.

At one point BBE, child #3, became very frustrated and wanted the fan turned off. Well, good luck! Finding out which light switch works which thing is very confusing. But, I did finally figure out how to stop the fan. And there stuck to one of the fan blades was his perfectly fired dart.
How he made such a perfect shot is beyond me. Then came the challenge of how to get it down without breaking the light bulbs. I think big brother was the best shot and got it down for him.

Thank goodness dinner time came, finally and we were off to Moe’s for dinner. The boys love eating at Moe’s. Not particularly our favorite but we ate there anyway. I won’t go into the evening there. The meal wasn’t that great, order got mixed up, at least one kid went home hungry or at least that’s what he says, but then he is a nearly pre-adolescent and what are you supposed to expect from that. The chicken was left off of three quesadillas and a sprinkling of cheese was all that graced the poor quesadillas. Ah, I won’t really to go there with the rest of the story. Guess it will be The Varsity next time. They all love their grease fix there, anyway.

Then it was time for bed. I didn’t really have a big problem with the two older boys. They got themselves ready for bed without much ado. But…that little one, who was supposed to be in bed by 8:00 sharp, kept dilly dallying around with more things to keep him from going to bed. It’s amazing how many things he can think up to stay out of bed! And he’s only been here on earth for three short years!

Of course the seven year old would have nothing to do with allowing the three year old share the shower/bathroom part. It is a shared bathroom, but not according to the seven year old so we moved on to find another bathroom.

I’m not sure the three year old wasn’t in on this little deal because he immediately told me his Mommy had told him he could take a shower in her bathroom so a bit reluctantly we took his towel into Mommy and Daddy’s bathroom for a shower. My doubts were well placed as soon as I saw the shower/bathtub. Mommy surely wouldn’t be foolish enough to allow a three year old to take a shower in that bathroom with hardwood floors. Then he said, Mommy wouldn’t let him take a shower in there, but he could take a bath. Check out the bath. It was a large oval tub with the faucets to the outer side of the tub, and it was deep, deep, deep. Hard for me to get the plug into the tub without practically getting into it from a very awkward position. But I did try. Just as I thought I had the plug almost arranged like I needed it, I felt a very cold sensation running down my right arm.

BBE says, “I help you Grandmudder!” And he had. He turned on the cold water just as my arm reached across. My sweater was completely soaked. “What are you doing, James?” I asked. “I helping you, Grandmudder!” “But James, now Grandmother has a very wet sweater, and I don’t have any dry clothes! Now I’m all wet!”

He reaches over and feels my arm. “Oh,” says he. He tried to help me dry it with his towel, but it was still soaked! I reached over again to put the plug in place and caught sight of him once again trying to help me.”No, James, don’t do that again!” He really was trying to help, I just didn’t trust him after an arm full of water running down my arm.

We finally finished the bath and moved on to finishing up for bed. Daddy had said the younger two needed to be in bed by 8:00. The other one could stay up. He likes to read before he finally settles in usually by 8:30 or 9:00.

“Where are your pajamas, James?” “I don’t know.” (He also didn’t know where his tennis shoes were when we got ready to go eat. We had to grab a pair of Velcro type ones to wear. And I still don’t know where his other shoes are.) So remembering some clothes that had been washed and sorted but, thank heavens, hadn’t yet made it to their proper place, I searched to find a pair that looked like they belonged to him. Size 5 Toddler. Looks about right. I grabbed them and headed upstairs. “Are these yours, James.” "I think so, I think they the ones from Grammy’s house.” Good. I stood behind him while he tried to shove his little feet and legs and arms into them. All went well…until I noticed one ribbing around the arm didn’t seem to match the ribbing around the other side. We had managed to put an arm into a leg hole and visa versa, but they almost fit…until I tried to zip the pajamas. Then they didn’t fit so well. He began to get hysterical because Grandmomma didn’t get his pajamas on right. I laid him on the bed and we started over again, my way. This time we finally got him into them the right way.

“Almost 8:00, James, we must be in bed by 8:00. Daddy says so…” I’m really trying, and I’m completely ignoring the older two. They are big boys and don’t need me breathing down their neck. Then James picks out two good, long books that don’t look at all interesting to me (a book about pirates and another about trains and how they work.) Mommy reads those books to him, says he. And I had promised him I would read a couple of books, so I was committed.

Granddaddy’s main job was to make sure Sophie didn’t come upstairs while I was working with James. That was a very simple task anybody should be able to handle, right? Well, why did James and I suddenly find a bouncing, biting, sharp toothed little white Bison puppy flouncing around in the middle of the two of us as one of us tried to read bedtime stories and the other tried to rescue treasures from the deep, deep sea with his Rescue Heroes anchor guy, whatever his name is.(I’m really not that good with this boy stuff once they pass the trucks and tractors stage!) How did Sophie manage to escape Granddaddy’s sharp eye?

It took a while before Granddaddy realized we were being charged and eaten alive by Sophie. He finally did come up, but long after he was needed. Finally story time came to an abrupt end after I accidently flipped through a few pages that happened to get stuck together, and I realized I could get away with it, hee, hee, hee, hee. But at the end of each story he had to read the book in condensed version to me.

Finally, at around 8:15 after much insistence that we just HAD to be in bed by 8:00, he settled down. And then after he remembered he hadn’t brushed his teeth, and after he had to search for his toothpaste in the drawer, and after he had to stop to sip water through the toothbrush a hundred times, and after he had to return his toothbrush to his drawer…but wait, that wasn’t where he had found his toothbrush. It was in his glass on the counter. No, No, No, he wanted it in the drawer. Who cares? Not me. Just get to bed, please, please, please. I am responsible for you right now, and if you are grumpy tomorrow at school, I don’t want to be blamed!

So we moved to the bed…again. But not before he had to show me his tractor blanket Mommy had made for him and not before we had to remove the stuffed green dinosaur he wraps around his little neck and has for the past couple of years. He seems to be a bit spooked out with this dinosaur in his room and asked me to put him in Charlie’s room. He didn’t feel comfortable with sleeping in the same room with that dinosaur. Charlie didn’t want the dinosaur in his room either, so I put him just inside the bathroom door, out of sight and out of James’ mind. Whatever brings happiness to him makes me happy.

After the final tuck in of the night he looks at me and this is his basic revelation:

“Grandmudder, my teacher says, ‘How did you get that bruise on your four-head, James?’ and I said, No, free, my free-head! (3) and she said, ‘your four-head’, and I said no, not my four-head, I free. And she said, ‘yes, you are three.’” Somehow she made him understand she was talking about the bruise on his head. I think she finally rephrased it by asking how he got that bruise on his head, no four head, no free head, and he went on to explain it got there when his older brother and he were playing with the Legos and bumped heads or something, I’m really not sure. I really only heard something about Legos...I was too busy convulsing.

I have to tell you I really was almost popping, trying so hard to hold back the giggles. How could anybody not follow the logic of that sweet little boy. His teacher knows he’s ‘free, not four’. What was wrong with her, it was not his four-head! You just have to love a little "free-year old" guy with his practical reasoning. It certainly made sense to me.

And it was just one of those sweet moments I was able to hear him tell himself, and not having it retold by a parent, who would probably have forgotten to tell me. I got it first hand! I felt myself to be quite privileged. He shared the moment with me.

This is one of those times I wish I had taken my little digital tape recorder along with me. It was a Christmas present so I could record these precious children and their straight-forward statements. So innocent, so sweet, so real, he was just like a typical three year old, only smarter. Of course I would think so. But I had forgotten to take it along. Sophie probably would have chewed it up, anyway. Sigh. Really must get into the habit of making sure it’s with me at all times.

What really amazed me was that when I shared the story with Granddaddy he just stared out into space trying to figure out the logic. His Daddy reacted in the same way. What’s the matter with you people? Again, he’s not old enough to have a four-head! Not when he’s only free! Really, now.

The night with the sweet boys ended after I kissed that sweet little face good night and promised him he could leave his bathroom light on and the door cracked. Because Mommy lets him. After saying our good nights and giving kisses to the other two, and just as I had gone down the stairs and into the living room his Daddy called and said he was ten minutes away. He missed so much fun tonight! But he almost didn’t!

Attempting to herd the cats, oh, I meant the kids, can be fun when you see the funny little twists and turns that can take place while you’re herding them, in a four or five hour span. What a blessing they are. It's all in the little moments.

Mother, May I?

Today, one of the games Annabelle and I played was “Mother, May I?” I guess the correct thing to have said was, “One of the games I played with Annabelle watching was “Mother, May I?”

This is a game where the child/children ask “Mother, May I?” when asking to move so many steps forward. It’s a simple enough game I guess along the same lines of Simon says in another form, maybe?

Anyway, rather than using real people we enlisted Annabelle’s animal critters and some of her little people, combined, whatever was convenient. I adlibbed the game with her watching intently as each little critter asked permission to move forward until one little doggie had a problem with manners and developed an attitude because he wasn’t up next to or ahead of his critter friend next to him. He became quite whiny and just over-all obnoxious until “Mother” finally had to teach him a lesson by refusing to allow him his request. Which brought down an instant meltdown!

I was really into this game when I happened to look over at my sweet baby girl and saw the most pitiful look on that normally sweet little face. She had become that poor little Doggie. She understood exactly how he felt. She was beginning to form tears in her own eyes for that poor little mistreated Doggie.

Oops! Maybe I had gotten a little too melodramatic with her? I broke into laughter and when she took her eyes off of poor doggie and looked at my face, she began to laugh, too. I hope she knew it was only a game. I think she figured it out.

Oh, did I mention, we played this game out on one of her new-found loves...an empty diaper box. That diaper box has been the basis of parking spots for her school bus, mini-vans, and even a secluded area to protect her camping friends from the noise of the city.

Today after we stopped our outrageous game of “Mother, May I?” we turned that diaper box into a finely set table with the most luxurious of china and fanciest silverware, loaded with the most scrumptious desserts you could ask for. We had beautifully decorated cupcakes; multi-colored ice cream cones three and four scoops high; chocolate and strawberry covered donuts; and the obligatory awful tasting vegetables and fruits we all must endure before we can move on to these beautiful desserts. Oh, and one of those beautiful cupcakes had managed to walk right out of the muffin tin and Annabelle was sure it was on her Mommy and Daddy’s bed. A search didn’t show it was there, but then we did have to make it quick. Grandmomma doesn’t mess with a wild animal who had escaped from the jungle (that would be the wild undomesticated cat she calls Jezebel). That’s really NO exaggeration! She is truly wild, at least to me. That cupcake will show up. It’s probably hiding under the sheets and Mommy or Daddy will sleep with a cupcake with a round shape stuck to their foot.

It takes a lot to entertain her and sometimes it taxes my poor brain to come up with something else. One thing is for sure. I will not be held responsible for any psychiatric help this child might need in the future. It’s all her fault I have to resort to all these silly games I play with her. But I wouldn’t trade the time spent with her for anything.

Who knows how crazy I really was in my childhood. After all, I was raised practically an only child…the closest in age to me was my brother who is six years older than me and my oldest sibling, another brother, was 15 years older. And I did have a few pretend playmates for many years. They all remained consistant. I didn't swap out my best friends every few weeks. They were me and mine. Guess that explains a lot, huh? And maybe I’m just a good example of the reason for not being an only child, or a child with so many years in between.

"Un huh, ain't it great to be crazy?" Seems like that was a line from my younger years.

Put the blame where it belongs...

Annabelle's Mommy shared a little story about Annabelle putting the blame on her Daddy when a book Mommy was reading to her had a gash in it. Today, out of the blue she walked over to the chair that Mommy referred to earlier and said to me, "Daddy break it!" Simple and to the point. It was all Daddy's fault.

There's nothing that gets by that little girl. She'll tell on you no matter how small an indiscretion you commit. She will tell!

You ask a simple question and this is what you get...

Conversation between Grandmomma and Annabelle this morning:

Grandmomma: "Annabelle, do you know where Mommy keeps the toliet paper?"

Annabelle: "Um hum. It's right dare." She points to the toliet paper holder.

Grandmomma: "But,Annabelle, do you know where Mommy keeps the extra toliet paper?"

Annabelle: "Um hum, It's right dare!" she answers a bit more firmly.

It's difficult dealing with a two-year old when Mommy fails to share where she stores the secret stash!

Strange little girl

Mommy called early this morning and wanted to know if we could keep Annabelle so she could go in for another training session and do a little work at the office later today.

After walking with the sibling and spouses I called Mommy and told her we would meet her down at her house and pick up Annabelle for lunch at Granddaddy's and her favorite place, "Captain D's".

She saw us when we pulled up and Mommy said she got excited. We made it almost to the restaurant when my sister called. They were also on the way, but we were closer so we made sure to hold our favorite spot away from the cold, cold window. And it was a good idea because today has been one of the colder days so far this winter.

Annabelle seems to be feeling much better today because once we got into the restaurant she breaks out with squeals. Very unusual for her, especially lately. She's pretty shy in public, but today was a bit different. I guess she hasn't felt as well in a few days, so she just needed a little exercise of her lungs.

Almost the entire time we ate, for some reason she felt she needed to hold my hand. Only she was holding my hand with her left hand instead of her right hand. She's been pretty much inclined to use her left hand for eating, but most of the time she needed it to hold my hand. Later she did turn it loose and go back to eating with her left hand.

Strange thing is, she made me use my left hand to eat with. I'm right handed normally, but I have to admit breaking my right arm several, no five years ago, (can it really be 5 years already?)forced me to learn to use my left hand.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty much boring to her, I'm sure, because she was pretty tired by the time we got back from eating and it was almost time for her to go down for that much-needed afternoon nap. She didn't fight me at all! She was pooped. But we did play for around 30 minutes before napping.

And, one other thing, Mommy had told her before we left for lunch that if she ate a good lunch she could have her choice of either a fortune cookie or a Hershey's Kiss. I reminded her of it on the way home and her little face covered with a smile, thinking about her Kiss. She had made her choice and couldn't wait to get it. Of course, I gave it to her and she had to open it all by her little self with Granddaddy watching her. She wouldn't even put it into Granddaddy's mouth. Now do you think she was little selfish? Not really. She's been waiting for feel better for almost a week and she deserved a dessert. She really ate a great meal today at lunch and I packed a contained of diced peaches which she devoured after at least five pieces of shrimp, a good bit of mac and cheese, hushpuppy (1/2), and coleslaw. She wasn't too much into her broccoli today, but that's alright, her appetite seemed to be returning.

It was a good day for us all.

Love your Teddy, whichever one is near...

Saturday when Annabelle left our house she grabbed up the $2 teddy bear she had refused to have anything to do with when I bought it last week. She had a change of heart and decided that since I had asked her if I could give it to her great-aunt, she figured I just might be serious about it.

She began to talk about the Teddy Bear that Grandmomma and Granddaddy had given her for her birthday which was her precious teddy bear and then she talked about the other Teddy Bear that Grandmomma and Granddaddy had given her. This was the $2 one we had given her recently.

I think she was putting this together in her little mind and it helped make her mind up to carry the $2 bear home with her when she left that day. Maybe she knew she had a need for the chubby $2 bear before the week end was over.

Today when we got to her house, Mommy took me to the clothes she had washed for Annabelle after her illness. There lay Teddy, her beloved Teddy. And he smelled...clean, really clean! I couldn't imagine how Mommy had gotten her precious teddy away from her for a good washing, but I found out later when I read her blog.

She was holding the $2 Teddy when she finally woke up this morning and carried it around most of the day until she finally pretend cried for Teddy Bear and I told her she knew where he was. She went over to the table and found him. I suggested she not keep the two of them together so that at least one would be clean and fresh in case she needed it later for loving. She agreed to that until bedtime. Then she wanted both of them in bed with her. Sorry, Mommy, she just has lots of love to go around, I guess.

Happy birthday to me??? Really??? Yes, indeed...

I've contended for at least 34 years that a child will always find a way to be sick on my birthday. At least one will. There's something about me having a birthday that just invites sickness! I'm beginning to become a little paranoid. Maybe it has something to do with me.

So, going from one kid to another kid and the last episode with a granddaughter, I'm convinced I just won't celebrate birthdays anymore. I'm declaring birthdays are off limits for me in the future. We'll only celebrate Ground Hog's Day in the future.

Anyway, as I mentioned yesterday Mommy had jury duty this year, on my birthday, since she begged off earlier last year. It was out the door by 6:48 a.m. so we could beat the traffic and be at their house by 7:30. We made it. Exactly at 7:30. Mommy had a deadline of leaving by 7:45 because she had to be there by 8:15. She was running a few minutes late, but I assume she got there on time. I never asked.

Annabelle was still in bed asleep when we got there so we let her sleep until around 9:00, since she has had a very rough few days lately. I asked if she wanted something to eat and offered her some oatmeal which she said she did want. She really didn't want it after the first bite so I offered some grapes. She ate about 9-10 of those and that was her breakfast.

Her diaper was not very wet this morning because she hasn't been drinking much juice/water lately. It was my mission (in her mommy's eyes) that I should make sure she drank plenty of liquids today, whether she thought she needed it or not. That included forcing it down her with a medicine spoon or medicine dropper. Right. Liquid goes easily down sealed lips and clinched teeth. It became a power thing. She had the power and I had none.

We tried the medicine spoon thing, the medicine dropper thing, bribery, threatening, begging, pleading, how about a popcicle, thing, still no more than a few sips and only 1/2 sippy cup gone. In the meantime her mommy would sneak moments to call and harass me to see if I was getting liquids down her.

We even played the game of her deciding that since she had to drink the liquid, it was only fair that I should have to do the same; therefore,she would bring my drink over to where she was drinking hers and together we would drink. It was probably a good idea because I was failing to drink my drink also.

But that game got old in a hurry to her and we were back to the old stuff again.
I even suggested that since she wasn't drinking her drink maybe she was just ready for naptime. She didn't agree with that but still didn't want to drink anything else.

"You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink." I could have written that all by myself, especially after today. She did get at least 1 2/3 sippy cups down before I put her down for naptime. I don't know how much Mommy got down her after we left, but I suspect she wasn't very successful, either. But I may be wrong.

After lunch I was so very sleepy and since Granddaddy had been napping all morning I asked him to watch Annabelle while I caught a quick nap. Just as I was about to lapse into a nice sleep I was awakened by a thud, right on top of my chest. A big black cat had chosen my chest to rest on while she begged for attention. That would be fine except she gets those nails caught in my sweater and I don't like for her to try to get loose and think I'm preventing it and then scratching me. And she's good at that.

She forces you to pay attention to her, as I said above. She will not be ignored. She bites your finger with a little added pressure if you fail to love on her. I loved her for a few minutes and then made her get down because of the sweater thing. But she wasn't happy, so I tried to put a pillow on top of my chest before she got back up again. She sat there for a while letting me love her and then she turns and sticks the back side right in my face! How dare she diss me after I've taken nap time to give her a little attention.

I made the comment that I didn't think anybody ever loved her around that house or she wouldn't keep aggravating me every time I come and especially when I try to sleep. Annabelle was still sitting in Granddaddy's lap doing her little "see if I can fall on my head from Granddaddy's lap" when I heard her say, "Me loves Chadow, Grandmomma!" And she does. Her Mommy says she says it all the time that she loves Shadow. It was just a funny little thing that happened today.

Annabelle has a pair of teddy bears that interact with each other wirelessly. You push the hand of one and the other starts a conversation about singing the ABCs with the other. Very cute. I knew she had gotten them for Christmas from the couple her mommy and daddy had met on a cruise a few years back. They are from Boston and have kept in touch with each other and visited each other on several different occasions. Of course, since Annabelle came along they like to make at least a yearly visit and always remember her with some pretty lavish gifts on different occasions of the year.

Annabelle has begun singing her ABC's lately. She is such a funny thing. She gets them right most of the time. I assume she must have used these teddy bears as part of her learning experience. I have to say they are very, very cute.

When we read one of her books that has Humpty Dumpty, and several others, I read them to her and end the line with a different word, such as Humpty Dumpty sat on the floor, or Rock a Bye Baby in the tree branch, or Hey Diddle Diddle, the Cat and the Fiddle, the cow jumped over the sun or rooftop, etc. just substituting different words and totally messing with her little mind. She catches it everytime and tells me "Nooo!" and corrects it. She knows her nursery rhymns and tells me the word that goes there instead of my silly word.

Also, while she and I were playing on the floor everytime I would put one of the toys where I wanted it she would pick it up and move it somewhere else after saying, "Nooo." Finally, just to see what her reaction would be, I commented something along these lines, "That's not fair! You move my person. You're taking my creativity away! You're changing my imagination! That's not fair." To which she sat for a second, then reached over and returned my little person back to the place I had it in the first place, even though it wasn't where she really wanted it in the first place. I'm sure she had no idea what my "creativity" meant or anything about what I meant when I mentioned my "imagination." But it was lots of fun watching her making her decision about maybe making me feel left out of the game or whatever she had rattling around in that little brain. I just love her so much! She's so much fun.

Granddaddy decided that after we had our blessing at lunchtime he and Annabelle should sing Happy Birthday to Grandmother so she finally joined in singing and she would say, "Happy birthday to me and Grandmother, Happy birthday to me and Grandmother," all the way through the song. It was all about her and Grandmother! And why shouldn't it be? What a hoot she is!

What better way to spend a birthday than with a sweet little grandchild? I can't think of anything more fun except having them well. Get well, soon, Little Princess, we're all ready for you to.

Report on the sick

Mommy called early this morning and Annabelle is acting lethargic. She is concerned about her. She called the doctor's office and while talking to the nurse, the nurse asked if that was her she heard in the background. Her Mommy had to confess it was her baby. And she had decided to serenade the nurse with her song of ABC's. They'll do it everything. Just when you're describing to the doctor's office how they are on the verge of sure death, they sense it and still to show you up.

She was to watch her and if she didn't get better, maybe take her to the emergency room. She had her moments all through the day of getting better and then worse, then better.

Daddy had kept her during the day when her Mommy went to work. She had to finish up some work at the office she had to put off when she got so sick on Friday. When Mommy came home, Daddy had gotten Annabelle up and she had started throwing up all over again. He, being a good Daddy that he is, cleaned up after his baby's throw up. That doesn't happen very often, I can promise you. It is a pretty disgusting smell and thing to have to do, so kudos to you, Daddy, for stepping up to the plate.

It may be necessary to take her to the doctor tomorrow. She isn't running a temperature, so hopefully they'll be able to make it through until morning. And did I mention, Mommy has jury duty tomorrow. Rescheduled because she couldn't do it last year because she had a more pressing issue of a little one to feed. Pay day, some day, and it's difficult to get out of it because they never give you a number to call to let them know you and your child have been deathly ill.

Mommy has been very concerned that Granddaddy and I might catch what they had. I certainly hope we don't get it, but I certainly hope we don't catch it while we're needed to relieve for jury duty for Mommy. So many nuisances, all at once.