So it turns out that little stomach bug we had at the end of April was a bit like the jelly-of-the-month club. It's the gift that keeps on giving. Since I last wrote about it, the bug took down both of my parents and revisited some of us for Round 2. I managed to get the sickest I can ever recall, and over the course of three days kept down only a bowl of mashed potatoes, and it didn't sit entirely well. (I will say, they were the tastiest mashed potatoes I have ever consumed. Go KFC, the kids' pick for Mother's Day.) Today Leon was symptom free, although the poor little guy looked a bit haggard and we've taken to calling him "Skeletor." He has had various issues for 13 days straight, although thankfully, most of the time he felt okay other than his stomach being angry. (We took him to the doctor after three straight nights of vomiting, and although we're still waiting for the results of one test, everything else has come back negative. He is technically relatively okay.)

I would think that being pretty much out of commission between my own sickness and my kids for the past four weeks would make me feel horribly behind. I think I did feel that way after Round 1, and I went nuts trying to get caught up, and I'm pretty sure that's how I ended up sick with Round 2. So now I am in a very relaxed, slooow place. And I kind of like it.

Over the weekend Jeff was at a soccer clinic all day Saturday and Sunday, so I got to hang out solo with the kids. On Saturday, we went grocery shopping. That was it. The rest of the day went to making food, serving food, cleaning up food, and wiping bottoms. Sunday I had planned on setting up the little kid pool outside, but when it was too cold (!), we did other outside activities. I set up cups with colored water on the kids' picnic table, and I took Ree's easel out for outdoor finger painting fun. The kids also ate popsicles, and we all had fun. Well, mostly. Michael was in freaking out mode all day, but that happens with him.

While I am rambling, just one more Michael story. This was classic Michael - all book smarts and not an ounce of common sense. Tonight Ree wanted to play a game from preschool after dinner. It's a combination of Charades and Twenty Questions. Each person acts out an animal, and everyone gets to ask them questions like, "What color are you?" and "Where do you live?" to help them guess the animal. Ree had a list of animals she got in a kid's meal, and when it was her turn, she pointed out the name of the animal she was going to act out so that I could help the boys ask relevant questions. Michael guessed correctly, and he got the next turn. He had watched Ree's entire turn, so I assumed he knew what to do. I pointed at an animal name and asked if he could read it. He said, "Yes. Cow!" I said yes, that was right, but we didn't want anyone to know the animal. I then said, that we would try again but this time he should just think the word his head but not say it with his mouth. As I did that, I happened to point at my head.

I actually pointed to the same word again. Michael smiled, pointed to his own head, and shouted, "COW!"