Sleuthing

I walked into Annie's room the other day to find blue crayon on her dresser, walls and door. I yelled for the kids, pointed to the mess, and began my interrogation:

Me: WHO DID THIS?
Annie: Ivan did it!
Ivan: Mommy did it!

I quickly began to suspect one of them was lying. But who? I followed the crayon trail to the kids' trampoline, where I found this:



That's an "I," "V," and "A" in the same blue crayon. I quickly deduced that Mommy was not, in fact, behind the graffiti. But by then Annie already had most of the mess cleaned up (that little girl LOVES to clean), so my naughty boy got off a little easy.

Sickies

Now I have two sick kids. Ivan's fever hit 103.5 at about 4 a.m. He was upset, but all in all, he's a pretty stoic little guy who doesn't complain much. Compare that to Annie, who has sounded like this, non-stop, for the last three days:

Annie: Mommy!
Me: What?
Annie: I'm sick, Mommy!
Me: I know, I'm really sorry, Annie.
Annie: Mommy!
Me: What?
Annie: My head hurts, and my tummy hurts, and my legs hurt.
Me: That sounds terrible; I am sorry, Annie.
Annie: And my throat hurts. And my heartbeep hurts.
Me: Your "heartbeep"?
Annie [pointing to chest]: Yes, it's in here, and it beeps.

The good news is that they are pretty chipper once I dope them up on Tylenol. Hooray for that, at least.