Parvo

Yep, we've still got it here. The girls are both doing so much better. It appears that Layla may have moved through this one with just the shits. Evie and I absorbed the worst of it, with endless puking, fever, chills, and sleep. Mike was bad yesterday, but he seems alright today. He likes to credit his iron stomach. I like to remind him that his middle aged iron stomach can't even allow him to eat hot wings without taking an antacid.

So here we sit, in a smelly house, under self quarantine, hoping beyond hope that I'm well enough to go to work tomorrow for this short week, and the girls are good to go to daycare. Cause we're all starting to work eachother's last nerves.

As evidence by Layla coming up to me this morning and yelling:

"GET OFF THE COUCH, WITCH".

And as I struggled with wrangling the hand that was about to snatch her by the hair, and trying to keep from laughing, I watched as she ran over to her play clothes to grab the witch hat.

Oh.

Heh. She just wanted to play.

Or she's exceptionally bright and just got away with calling me a witch dead to my face.

Either way, props, kid.