Trauma!

Well, life just never gets boring around here! Got one kid throwing up, and another decided to jump off a brick mailbox and broke his arm. We'll be discussing consequences quite a bit over the next few days, I can tell. And believe me, there's a blog post coming about that trauma later!

But this story is about a different trauma.

Last night was rough – several hours in the emergency room with T1, then when we went to pick up the girls from Grandma's house, C started throwing up again. So we went to bed with T1 sleeping in my recliner, arm propped up on a pillow, and C in her bed with a throw-up bowl right next to her. And our door wide open, just in case any of them needed to call us.

T1 came in for a visit and to beg for more Tylenol around 1 or so. Got him settled back in and fell back asleep.

Around 3:15, we were awakened by a desperate voice screaming for daddy. Daddy moved fast! We both went racing out…first to broken-arm boy, who was sound asleep in the chair. Then to puking-girl, who was also sound asleep. The screamer? T2! The reason for the screaming? "Daddy, Daddy, there are ANTS in my bed. Ants! Ants!"

Yes, ants.

She's sitting at the opposite end of her crib, perched on top of her pile of animals and toys, pointing at the end she sleeps in. Poor pathetic girl.

We turned on the lights, straightened out the blankets, showed her there were no ants, tucked her back in, and she was out like a light.

Yep, my older girl will stomp spiders barefoot (and we won't talk about how that makes my skin crawl!), but my younger girl has a massive fear of teeny-tiny ants.

And it's official – our house has gone completely crazy.

Anybody wanna come visit?