Well well well. Ulfgub has not moved on, apparently. I thought he did, because things seemed to get back to normal on Wednesday and Thursday, with the boys eating and keeping food down and playing and being their usual boy selves.
Then Friday morning, I took Jeffrey and Joey to visit a friend who moved into a brand new big and beautiful house, and after I got the grand tour and we were sitting in the neverending kitchen with the beautiful stainless steel appliances and admiring the lovely granite of the expansive island, Jeffrey heaved. And in doing so, christened their new home with Ulfgub.
The visit ended abruptly with me packing up my germy children and heading home. I decided to fight back once and for all. I tore through the entire house with linen scented can of Lysol and sprayed doorknobs and drawers and cabinets and telephones and remote controls. But Ulfgub hid well, probably under the sofa or in somebody's shoe.
Saturday came with Jeffrey still fighting Ulfgub. The potty training was nearly accomplished and we could claim success if Ulfgub hadn't left already.
Today is Sunday. As I suspected he would, Joey got in on the game and has been vomiting since he woke up. And just for good measure, Jeffrey brought up last night's dinner. G has claimed himself the sole survivor.
The day is not over yet.
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