The morning started out well. The oldest came in and announced he had started making breakfast. That's always a nice thing to hear, even if he chose a recipe beyond his competency level and we had to help him a bit, I admire the initiative.
After breakfast, the kids did a bit of school and then tortured me by playing Star Wars music on the kazoo. Now I hear that the CIA has been a bit of trouble lately for torturing terrorists, but let me note that water boarding cannot be compared to the metal anguish caused by listening to Darth Vader's theme song for the thousandth time in a row on the kazoo. So if you have an Al Qaeda operatives that you need to get talking, send them over to meet my children.
Such exuberance on the part of the short set being coupled by my own desire to get outside on a lovely spring day, I proposed that we set aside the books until after lunch and head to the park. And we had a lovely 30 minutes or so until the big kids decided to borrow bikes from the community center. Within ten more minutes or so, one of the kids was on the ground writhing in pain and I was packing up for a trip to the ER, because blacking out due to pain can't be good.
Fortunately, my husband was able to meet us at the ER and stay with the patient while I took the other kiddos to the waiting room and then on to the hospital Taco Bell and Ben and Jerry's. We'll pretend it was an educational trip -- how not to ride a bike for one of them and the others got to pet a sloth visiting from the Nashville Zoo.
By the time we got home, the injured party was feeling much better and we just need to keep an eye out for any problems that could crop up though none are expected.
To add insult to the day though, my mostly potty-trained (but obviously not quite) two year old presented himself to me with an explosion of the bowels that had reached his shoulders. I'm not sure I've ever seen the like before and certainly hope never to do so again.
And so, I'm in hiding. Tomorrow has got to be better. Right?