Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease. Something that should have been done away with when the Moores roamed the earth is what is wrong with my little boy? We can fly to the moon, have computers that give us instant information, and YouTube, yet we can't come up with a cure for some disease spread by children?
Give me strength.
After initially worrying that Trot had the chicken pox, we found out today he's got this. Turns out some other booger eater showed up at church on Sunday with it, and now I've got Ciera and Rakes turning into compulsive hand-washers.
If you've never experienced a not quite 2 year old with blisters in his mouth and a 103 degree fever, count your blessings. A Yak caught in a bear trap makes less noise.
Add to that the helpless feeling you get when you watch Tanner Boyle play shortstop in The Bad News Bears, and you get some inkling as to what my house was like tonight.
My one diversion was taking Rakes to soccer practice. Half way through he had to go pee, which usually isn't an issue. Except the public bathrooms were locked.
Just chalk it up to another plus playing in a sports league run by Goober from Mayberry.
So we did the next best thing; we went over to the fence surrounding the soccer field and he took care of his business. I'm fairly confident nobody would have noticed anything, except for the following two things.
He can't go to the bathroom with his shirt on.
And his pants were around his ankles.
'Cause as we all know, you don't want to get anything on your pants.
I'll be checking into rehab tomorrow if anyone needs me.
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