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Notes from NUT House

So there we were, all throwing up. If that’s too much information for you, just consider: I never even mentioned what else we were all doing, besides throwing up. You’re welcome!

When a stomach bug goes roaring through a big family — a big family, I might add, who’s had “make second toilet operational again” on the to-do list for over a year now — it looks a little something like this:

The first part is all, “Well, well, here we are on a fine spring afternoon. What shall we do with our day?” And then . . . you find out.

So anyway, the baby has not gotten sick. I attribute this to my superior mothering skills, which include letting her eat dirt, letting her eat hot dogs, and letting her eat dog food. I also notice her coat is sleek and shiny and her foot pads are supple.

However, having a healthy baby living amidst the valley of the almost-dead is not necessarily a recipe for domestic happiness. She wants to run around shrieking and hitting people in the face and dancing on the ottoman like a drunken sorority girl, only with less clothing. Normally, we are fine with this, by which I mean we are scared of her and don’t know how to make her stop. But when we’re all sick and enfeebled and our heads are going to fall off if she doesn’t stop shrieeeeeeeeeeeking at us, something must be done.

Using the last working part of my brain, I had a brain wave. I took a milk jug, rinsed it out, cut a hole in the side, and handed it to Ms. Nu Upsilon Tau (head sorority sister at NUT House, ha), along with a bag full of clothespins.

She. Loved. It. If you can’t imagine why, just picture this: You can drop a clothespin in the hole, and it will fall into the jug! You won’t be able to see it anymore! But it made a loud clattering noise, so you know it’s got to be there somewhere! So you stick your hand in the hole in the side, and there is a clothespin in there! And if you take it out, you will have a clothespin! But wait, there’s more. YOU CAN DO THE SAME THING ALL OVER AGAIN!

This miracle of physics kept her busy for a blessed twelve minutes, and she didn’t even try to murder us when we suggested to her that she might want to play with it again later in the day. Babies are insane. Thank God.

If more than 24 hours goes by and you don’t hear from me again, please send more clothespins.

***

image by Loadmaster (David R. Tribble) Creative Commons

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