Please No More Creeping Ick

Dreams of finally--after weeks and weeks of scheduling irregularities--having a morning to myself were extinguished with vomit today.

Poor Iz. She's such an odd combination of stoicism/drama queen that it's hard to know when she's really not well. I hope that it was just orange juice on an empty stomach that triggered her defilement of the schoolroom, and that she'll be good to go for this afternoon's playgroup (where we will celebrate December 1st by watching Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer).

I've been feeling barfy for a good few days (probably the aftermath of Thanksgiving overindulgence) and hope that this latest bug will realize that it wouldn't be fair to attack--we were already a sick house for more than a month and need to lie fallow for now.

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