Sick Kids and Little Monsters

First, a joke, in honor of International Women’s Day. But I promise, no menstruation jokes.

PMS jokes aren’t funny…period.

Hahaha.

Haha.

Ha?

I’ll get my coat.

Anyhow…

We’ve had a weird 24 hour virus floating around my house this week.

It causes the vilest, most foul of vomit, which smells like Satan’s taint mixed with battery acid and perm chemicals. And it turns the contents of every stomach into either half-digested tendrils of ramen or thin, elongated mealworms.

Whichever visual makes you feel more like horking, go with that one.

June was first. Then Harper. Then me.

We should be all paid up at this point. I was able to go to the store this afternoon for some basics.

Milk.

Eggs.

Cyanide tablets for if this ever happens again.

It’s so gross.

Actual footage of me putting my kids to bed:

But on the upside I’ve gotten to spend some quality hork time with each girl individually.

June forced me to watch “Sing.”

So I may just save the cyanide tablets for if she ever forces me to watch “Sing” again.

Because barf.

Harper was down for some “Little Monsters” action.

I love that we have the same taste in entertainment.

Good times.

Remember that movie? Ugh. Howie Mandell is a huge advocate for adult attention deficit disorder but I hate him. I hate everything about his face.

Especially that soul patch. God, I feel like the soul patch should be just the official facial hair of sex offenders notionally.

It’s prejudicial and entirely baseless hatred but I can’t help it.

And yet. “Little Monsters.”

I love that movie.

Fingers crossed no one’s barfing tomorrow.

Fingers crossed, Freddy.

Ten points to whomever gets that reference.

And…there may be a Tom Green post in our future.

Yep.

Pretty sure there is…

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