With a Whimper

by Bella Rum

IMG_0810Note the bare feet.

Whoosh! And Christmas comes to a close for 2015.

I’m sick. So is H. Sore throats, coughing. It had to happen. Between all the pushing for the holidays, and three sick children who came to roost with us for five days, how could anyone escape unscathed? When they arrived, only one was still coughing. The other two were on the mend, but they had passed it around to each other, including their parents, and they couldn’t help but pass it on to us.

My grandson is in second grade. A joke he heard at school: If someone knocks on your door, it isn’t Santa. It’s ISIS.
Lovely. I guess everything we say and see and do percolates down to them.

 IMG_0834She doesn’t look like a wanted poster, does she?

The little one, a.k.a. the precious, adorable, loving one, decorated the carpet in their room with her older sister’s stamps and stamp pads. She stamped away with abandon before her crime was discovered. Her parents were not happy. Her older sister told me that she once found one of her My Little Pony dolls naked and scalped. Four adults in the house and not one of us noticed her project. Her mother cleaned it up and all looks normal again. The carpets are original to this house, but when we moved in, I decided not to replace the one in their room. I’m a genius! Don’t you think I’m a genius?

After the kids left and before I collapsed into a 2-hour nap, I managed to make a huge pot of turkey hash. I also held back enough turkey and stuffing for one more meal. I will not have to cook for a few days. Hopefully I will be a wholly functioning person by then.

Today will be divided between the couch and the bed. I plan to lounge, nap, sip Emergen-C and watch mindless television that requires no more than two brain cells for comprehension.

All joking aside about the little one, we had a fantastic time. Everyone seemed happy. H and my son took the older ones to see Star Wars. The kids played outside everyday because the temps were in the seventies. It was gorgeous. The lawn is speckled with broadleaf weeds because of the warmth. That has never happened this time of year — ever.

Things will be quiet until after New Year’s Day. I don’t think I should invite anyone over until I feel better. For now, I’m slackin’ like the biggest slacker you’ve ever known, and I plan to slack my way into the New Year. How about you?