100 Days, A Day Early

So, a lot of really bad/sad/depressing/jumpoffacliff things have happened around here lately and writing has honestly been the verylastthing I could imagine doing. Sadly, my photography has become second to last. Sigh.

However, just to let you all know that I'm not only still alive, but still screwing up my children, I give you my morning:

Bonus has been running a fever since Monday. I finally took him to the doctor yesterday and he has RSV, bronchitis and possibly walking pneumonia. Add to it that I pulled a muscle in my neck and spent two days unable to use my left arm and you have A.DAMN.GOOD.TIME. So this morning when Deuce came in my bedroom to ask if it was today or tomorrow that he was supposed to dress up for the 100th day of school, I went with my gut.

"It's probably today, buddy," I grumbled from under the sheets.

Since I am such an organized person, I didn't have a clue pulled out my day planner and helped him dress as a 100-year-old man. He wore his brother's plaid pj pants, pulled up to his nipples, a striped shirt, plaid tie, tucked into his pants of course, argyle socks and black dress shoes. I even coated his face in waterproof mascara for a beard. (That whole 'waterproof' part becomes important later. It's called foreshadowing people.)

We spent the entire morning learning phrases like, "Back in my day" and "You little whippersnapper." He swaggered to the bus stop with a 'hitch in his giddyup' and bragged to one of my neighbors about his plaid tie. It was a beautiful thing. I even posted that adorable picture on facebook.

Then my phone rang. It was Sheshe.

"Dude, my daughter said their 100th day is tomorrow," she said with uncertainty in her voice. "Are you SURE it's today?!"

"Of course I'm sure. The sheet that I threw out as soon as it came in the house saved on my cork board said the 24th," I explained in all confidence.

Then I called the school... "Mrs. Davis, we will just have him come to the office when he gets off the bus."

I threw the sick kid in the car and rushed to the school with clothes and makeup remover. When I got there, the poor kid was in the office, peering through the window in his little old man suit and his permanent beard. Let me tell you, waterproof mascara REALLY WORKS PEOPLE. I scrubbed his face for ten minutes straight and he STILL had black specks!

Once I had him dressed appropriately, he smirked and said, "Listen, if you keep this up, you'll never get rid of me. No one wants a damaged kid."

True dat, you little whippersnapper...