So the girls have the chicken pox. Not just a little. Big. It's wicked awesome with the red itchy bumps. And you know how Lily is a drama queen? Yeah, this is the role that she was born to play. That child can out howl the moon. Last night she woke after a couple hours flailing around half asleep in her bed and started screaming like death was at her door. We did everything we could (short of clubbing her in the head to knock her unconscious) and nothing made her feel better in the least. Anya, of course, slept right through this; not wanting to push our luck we took Lily into the main house and decided a little "movie therapy" might be in order. She watched all of Annie, not getting back to sleep until after 2am. Mark loves me so he took care of it, once again proving that he's the better person. I'm OK with that, mostly become I'm rested.
Anya woke with about a billion pox on her face to which Lily pointed out, "Anya, go look at your face in the mirror. It looks really bad." Thanks there, Spanky. Luckily, she's doing really well, just kind of sad and clingy and wanting the two of us to hang out in the shower for all time (where she takes great delight in peeing... good times) and asking to put ice on it (which we translate as a cold washcloth).
So yeah, things are fun in the wannabe hippie household. But we're about half way through this crap so I have hope for a new life without red itch welts plaguing my children. Light a candle for us. In the meantime, I'll be staring at this little face: