The Best Medicine

Ugh. What a weekend. Andy was working overtime and I entertained a nasty little head cold that seriously kicked my butt. (Honestly, calling it a "head cold" doesn't do it justice. This was the Joseph Stalin of head colds.) Sunday was spent cleaning up after a vomiting preschooler. (And trying to explain to her that her insides were NOT coming out of her body and no, she was not dying.) I will spare you the gruesome details. Let's just say that the last thing I did before going to bed Sunday night was clean the vomit out of the crevices of my wedding ring. Awesome. I fell into bed that night, grateful for the fresh start of Monday morning and a brand new week.

Or so I thought.

Until Lilly woke up Monday with pink eye

And Tuesday brought Janelle diarrhea. (Ummmm. Explosive diarrhea.)

So this afternoon found Nelly and I cleaning up yet another catastrophe in the bathroom. She was standing on her little potty stool with her pants around her ankles and she looked up at me with tired, solemn eyes and sighed, "This would never happen to Sleeping Beauty."

What do you say to that? And the mental image is pretty stinking funny. Before we knew it we were both laughing so hard we could hardly stand up.

I have to say, we both felt immensely better when we were done. I guess they were right; laughter is the best medicine.