ladybug, ladybug, you’re still dead (like francisco franco)

BC came home from school today complaining of stomachache, pains in her leg, a headache, and other assorted maladies. jools was home with me because i wanted to give sleep-deprived BS a break (though i am just as sleep-deprived as he is. but somehow, i’m the mom so i have to stay sane. he’ll probably get to sleep in the basement; i’ll get my bed but also the kids who moan in the night. i don’t think this deal is very fair, but there it is.)

so now, i have the two of them in the basement playing with the bazillion fisher price little people we have amassed over the year: the little people zoo, the little people house, the little people garage, the little people amusement parks (plural because we somehow have two), the little people doctor’s office, well, i could continue, but you get the picture. peace generally reigneth except for every five minutes, i hear one of my own personal little people shriek:


probably due to the world-wide freakshow known as global warming, we have amassed a collection of dead ladybugs in our basement. for some reason, BC thought she’d share her fear of dead or live bugs with her brother. so now, they want me to pick up and remove aforementioned dead bugs every time they find one. which is, apparently, every five minutes according to my watch. i’m about to lose my mind.


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