Today is suppose to be gorgeous outside. It is going to be near 60 degrees, the sun is shining, birds are singing, little buds are popping up from the cold ground. We have a big playdate scheduled with Lucy's friends: a set of twin girls and her other girlfriend. We got an email that asked for help in the school's garden today so we had a plan: go to grocery, pick up picnic supplies, have a picnic at the playground, help out in the school garden for a while, head home for a snack and get little ones ready for bed and let the big girls watch Cat in the Hat (it's Dr. Seuss week at school) and then all the friends will go home and we will carry on, probably with more outside time and thoroughly wearing everyone out until dinner/bedtime.
BUT... we drop off Lucy off at school (dressed like a Who from Whoville- hilarious!) and make the 15 minute drive to Trader Joes to pick up picnic supplies, park and then... Harper throws up. All over herself and the car.
Plan aborted. We head home, strip her down, clean her up, start Snow White on the DVD player. She is hunkering down in her room. Graham is following me around everywhere (EVERYWHERE) I go since his buddy is taken out of the picture, yet once again. No friends, no long outside fun, no picnic, just cleaning up vomit, taking temps and administering gatorade. Lucy has been diverted to a friends house for the afternoon to help avoid the plague, version 2.0.
Please, don't let Graham get it. Please don't let Lucy or Ian get it. Please let me avoid it again. Please let it be gone while Gramzie and Pop Pop and Uncle Hunter visit. Please!
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