Have you ever tried to put a baby in her bed who is resting her head on your shoulder while you sing "Dona Nobis Pacem" to her? Try it if you dare. It's a good thing that normally she is barrel-rolling and clawing at my face, because that stuff is like the crack cocaine. I am unable to resist a snuggy baby.
Pinga is sporting the new accessory everyone's talking about for Spring '09: Bloody Face-Hole Avoidance Strips. She's still rocking the impetigo (or, as John's dad calls it, "the dirty disease"--nice), and when she sucks her fingers, which is always, she picks at her face. Monday night I looked over at her, and she had blood running down her face from picking a scab. We put duct tape and gaffer tape on the sores because we're creative like that, but she kept pulling it off. Sarah and Daniel told us about the new schmancy Band-Aids that don't come off ever. They're called Tough Strips, and they are not screwing around. Hopefully her skin is healing under there, because I don't want to start calling her Scarface, but unfortunately my internal code of ethics forces me to be totally honest. 
She practices smiling like that so she'll have an easy transition when she's an old lady and her teeth fall out.
It does my heart good to see my boys reading in front of the fire. And it was nice of Skiver to do them a solid and act as a book rest.
They're both reading Deltora Quest. It's a pretty engaging fantasy series--how can you go wrong with riddles, swordplay, jewels, and scary monsters like giant toads?
Pinga is on another course of antibiotics. Augmentin this time, whee! After two weeks of that she's going on sulfa drugs (which are the ones we had to put up Finola's ladyparts when she got infected from the dead kids she retained, AWESOME) for another week or two or something, and then we get to go back to the doctor to see if we have to turn her into a cyborg. Only replace "cyborg" with "baby with ear tubes."
It would be really nice if antibiotics actually worked. That would be great for me.
John missed his flight to South Carolina this morning. Who's surprised? Oh, nobody? Yeah, that's what I thought. He had all kinds of reasons why it wasn't his fault, but I think that karma is finally catching up to him, for all the times he should have missed flights and didn't. I told him since he doesn't travel for work nearly so much, he's become one of the proles who have to put tons of padding in their schedule to get on the plane in time. One of us . . . one of us . . . one of us . . .
If there's something our ward is good at, it's compassionate service. And it feels good, even when you're wicked like me. We compassionate serve the CRAP out of people.
Apropos of nothing, this is what Superman said to me at lunch today:
Superman: "You know what? You don't have to buy the food, because the America stuff is in the safe house. You know where you get the water? From the sea."
John: "Okay, kids, Mom and I are going to go have a nap now, so we need you guys to play quietly downstairs."
(a few very noisy minutes pass)
The Children: (internal dialogue) "Well, I guess we'll just have to keep screaming. They aren't responding. We sent Superman up there twice and he never came back (on the second trip Superman wormed his way into bed with John and me and fell asleep). Usually we can send him up five or six times to keep Mom and Dad awake. I guess there's nothing left to do but scream louder. I . . . well, I don't know if I can scream any louder. I guess I'm going to be pushing the physical limits of how loud I can scream, but if that's what it takes . . . "
