The kids succumbed to illness today. I had to make my first phone call to the school, excusing Mini-me from class today. They both have mild fevers, nothing really to worry about, but as the day has progressed, Patch's nose has run faster and nastier. Poor kid. Well, poor me, really. Curly and I had plans tonight. I'm now weighing my options on that. If I can get the fevers to go away through the magic of a Tylenol/Motrin cocktail, then we'll go.
Speaking of bullets, Curly has been hard at work on the attic. He borrowed a nail gun. You can see where this is going. It was just a minor injury. A flesh wound, really. He was quick to point out (several times) that he didn't even cry. He was holding a beam and wasn't watching the angle very much. So, the nail went into the tip of his finger. It's a little bruised, as is his ego from the lecture I gave him, but he's no worse for wear. Last night as I was "helping" him, he kept pointing out which nail it was. I really didn't want to know, because now every time I look at that wall, I will think of a bleeding finger.
The Tylenol seems to have kicked in for Mini-me, as she's making up a song and singing at the top of her lungs.