Well, that explains a bit.

So this morning we all got up, and I drank multiple cups of coffee while shuffling the kids out the door for school.  And then I turned to Joey: "Okay, little man. Well, are you ready to go to play group."

He was quiet for a moment, choosing his words, and then he said, slowly and carefully, "No, I do not want to go."  Wait, you don't want to go to play group? But your friend Caroline will be there, Joey.  Don't you want to go see Caroline?

"No, I do not want to go."

That's pretty unusual for Joey, who loves being around other kids and loves going on little trips out of the house, so I decided I wouldn't push him.  Besides, I'd had a long night.  I could do with a quiet morning at home, too.  So we lounged, and read, and I made little trucks and helicopters out of legos.  And then I got a little itchy, noticing that the morning was beautiful and it was slipping away too quickly.

"Hey, Joey, do you want to go for a scooter ride?  I asked, grabbing the big bag of bottles and cans that I had to haul to the recycling center. Joey always wants to go on a scooter ride.  "Where?" he shouted, hopping up. "Where my shoes? Where?"  He was out the door and down the stores in about twenty seconds, waiting for me to get my things together.

But, somehow, in the few minutes it took me to locate my phone and my keys and my purse, Joey managed to fall asleep.  Right there, on the cold steps of the entryway, slumped over his scooter.  So we had a change of plans.

He actually didn't sleep long, waking up soon after his brother and sister, noisily, came home for lunch.  But he looked so bleary-eyed, and when he stumbled over for a hug, I realized he was hot, burning hot.  And, come to think of it, Alex had been pretty warm when I hugged him after school, too.  I'd attributed it to his running home quickly, and wearing the fleece jacket that he refuses to leave home without.

Sleepy Alex

But now I wasn't so sure.  I pulled out the thermometer.  Alex had a temperature of 101.8.  Joey, 105.5!

Oh. My.

So the rest of the afternoon was a steady infusion of liquids, Tylenol, and cartoons, although Alex fell asleep after a half-hour of television and didn't wake up for three hours. Joey, however, was a happy little snuggle-bug, cuddling all through Cars and Monsters, Inc.  It was a really nice afternoon, miserable fevers notwithstanding.

And the house stayed peaceful all afternoon.  Ella paused at home only long enough to ask permission to do her homework at nochElla's home, which I happily gave. She had a big pile of German grammar, and I was grateful to have a Swiss mommy help her out with it.

The girls came back just before dinner, both of them asking questions about the boys.  Alex had woken up from his nap seeming considerably better, but when he saw the girls concerned faces, he evidentially decided to get as much sympathy as he could.  He moaned a little, and then, for good measure, walked over to them with an exaggerated limp. "Oh, I'm so sick. My head hurts and my tummy hurts and I'm soooo sleepy...He-e-e-ey, whatcha doing? Can I do that?"

Before answering, nochElla looked disapprovingly at the television.  "Alex, don't you know that television is bad for you when you're feeling poorly?"  Well, he didn't, and I didn't either.  I asked her what she did, when she was feeling sick.  "Oh, I just have to lie very still in my bed, doing nothing at all."  Alex and I unconvinced looks: where's the fun in that?  All the same, her approval means a lot to Alex, and so he decided it was time to feel better.  Well enough for crafts, anyway.

Ella had told her friend about her project yesterday, painting stones with glue and then shaking them in bags of glitter, to make sparkly paper weights for her various teachers. I coated them with some shellac for good measure: they're perdy.

It's unfortunate that Dennis views glitter as the devil's art supply.  I'm sort of tempted to fill our French drain with these when we get back to Seattle.  But, for some reason, he doesn't enjoy going to work with stray sparkles on his cheeks.

Ella's been made well aware of the glitter clean-up policy in our house. As they went to wash up, she told her friend, "I have to warn you: make sure you don't get any glitter on the floor or the sink or the faucet or even the towel.  My parents will make you scrub the whole bathroom. I learned that the hard way, yesterday."  Oh, my poor Cinder-Ella.