Shit on mine

I haven't been working for the last couple of days. And by 'working', I mean I haven't been sitting at work drinking coffee and surfing the net. The term really is rather inaccurate insofar as when we say "I'm going to work," we imply that staying at home does not connote the concept of doing any. This is clearly false, as anyone who has children will tell you. Sick children. Most of the vomiting happened on Wednesday. But Thursday morning also brought a few hurls from the girls. Actually, it was only from one girl but I couldn't make that rhyme quite as well. The other girl had finished hurling by this stage. Not sure if it's worse to have sick children concurrently, or consecutively. Yesterday, Little Miss L was mostly stroppy or floppy. She was asking for things that I just wasn't game to give her. Milk. It makes you phlegmy (phlegmatic?) and makes you want to hurl. Not that you really want to. Especially when you're three. Or thirty-three (not that I am, but I could be) She pepped up a bit later on in the day and I found myself giving her things I wouldn't normally give her: Barley sugar, lollipops. Under the circs, it's about the only thing you can give her without her hurling. So she came good. We went outside and kicked a ball around. And last night it seemed she was out of the woods. This morning, I was giving them breakfast. Little Miss M was at the table with me; Little Miss L was behind me at the breakfast bar. I had given her a drink of milo and suddenly heard liquid spilling on the counter and dripping onto the floor. I thought she'd spilled it ,then turned around. "I was sure this pool of chocolate vomit wasn't here before," I was heard to say... And don't get me started on runny poo.