Freakin' Scary Easter Bunny

Apparently my children are terrified of large, fluffy bunnies with hard glass eyes and permanent bunny grins. We attempted a traditional Easter Bunny photo on Friday - with mixed results. I dressed them in their freshly ironed Easter outfits, combed their hair, and scrubbed the peanut butter and bread crumbs from their faces before heading to Stonestown Mall. Abby was instantly smitten with the bunny, calling him "doggie" and waving emphatically (from the safety of her mother's arms). Jackson wasn't particularly interested in the bunny, but rather turned his focus to the new Lightning McQueen I had hid (unsuccessfully) in the basket of their stroller.

The new car was intended as a blatant form of bribery. Specifically, "sit on the bunny's lap and smile and you can have the car." Although Jackson was quite nervous approaching the bunny, the bribe paid off. He smiled like an angel. No amount of pleading or cajoling could convince Abby, however. She simply screamed and cried for her mom, as if the bunny's white fur was scalding her legs as she sat on his lap. Alas, here is the result... Better luck next year?

A regular comedian...

Jackson's sense of humor is...well...maturing (?). He loves telling knock-knock jokes. They go something like this:

Jack: Knock-knock!
Me: Who's there?
Jack: Mama Head!
Me: Huh?
Jack: Unsuppressable giggles

He also substitutes "Mama Head" with "Daddy Head," "Abby Head," "Pillow Head," "Book Head," etc. No idea where the "head" reference originated... The other version of his knock-knock joke is "flub," i.e. "Mama Flub," "Daddy Flub," etc. HILARIOUS (?).

Barf-o-rama

The scourge has hit the Springer household. Abby started throwing up in middle of the night Monday and hasn’t stopped. We went to the doctor today to make sure she wasn't deydrated, as she doesn't seem to have any tears when she cries. Turns out that despite the seemingly endless yacking (and other, equally fun forms of human output), she is perfectly hydrated. Sadly, that's the only thing she has going for her. Her diaper rash looks like a war zone; it hurts her so much that we have to hold her around the middle rather than beneath her bum. And although this method protects her sweet tushy, picking her up around the middle has invited mass vomiting, almost like we're squeezing it out of her. I have no idea what's left for her to barf, as she hasn't eaten in two days! She must have a secret stash of food stores (I suppose you can't get thighs like hers without a little effort)!

Jackson, whom we thought had been spared, threw up five minutes before I picked him up from preschool Tuesday. To make up for lost time (and to keep up with his little sister), he threw up again in his car seat on the way home. Any parent out there has likely experienced the unique challenge of disassembling a car seat and washing the pad. No lack of fun at the Springer home during this week’s barf-o-rama!

What's worse, I'm starting to feel queasy myself. Fingers crossed that my symptoms are purely psychosomatic, but I'm feeling the faintest stirrings of nausea and achiness. Uugghh...

I have been elbow-deep in barf and other human output the past two days... I’d be happy never to have to clean it up again. That wish is a pipe-dream, I know, as my kids will surely be inflicted with many more barf spells in the years to come! And to think I went out of my way to get them both flu shots (non-thimerasol, mind you!)... I got one, too, but I'm afraid the vaccine is failing us all! Scott is our last hope. If he gets sick, the kids will have to learn to fetch their own Cheerios and juice!