Outbreak Monkey At the Hunger Games, Easter Edition

My family is not normal. Nothing we do is normal. No event is normal.  Hell, if we had a “normal” day, that’d be abnormal, so right in line.  Even our normal is weird.

Easter egg hunts are not normal at my house.  The grandchildren generally get along, the bigger kids help the little ones find eggs, and there is much rejoicing.

The parents, however, are another story.  It’s Hunger Games, Easter Egg Hunt at our house. There’s tripping, shoving, misdirection (“Holy shit, you just stepped in pile of dog poo!”), and general foolishness as each parent tries to gain an advantage for their offspring.

In short, they’re a bunch of miscreants.  I couldn’t be more proud.

This past Easter’s egg hunt was the same as all the others.  The only differences, for me, were 1) for once the yard wasn’t a mudpit as it had been pretty dry all week and 2) I had to watch from afar having smashed the ever-lovin’ shit out of my big toe that morning when I opened the back door to let the dog out and shoved the bottom of the door over the top of my toe.  It still hurts like a sonofa….

And then, the Outbreak Monkey arrived.

C’mon, tell me you have seen the scary movie “Outbreak” starring Dustin Hoffman and Renee Russo.  If not, get thee to a Red Box or Netflix, or something and watch it.

I’ll wait….

*whistles*

*bakes pie*

*builds storage shed*

*cures world hunger*

You back already? Good, now I can finish the story.

So, in my family the first person to get sick with whatever is the one we call the Outbreak Monkey.  This time, it was my 8-yr. old granddaughter and our first clue was the text her mother sent as they were driving home:

“Aaaand…we have pukage in the van!! AWESOME!”

At 1:00 a.m. the next morning, the poor baby was still puking in her sleep, no less.  My daughter called me asking for the magical potion I keep to stop pukages, so instead of sleeping at 1:00 a.m. I was dispensing wizardry in the hopes my sweet granddaughter would stop the pukies.  She did, and there was much rejoicing in the land…

….until this morning, when my daughter texted me again and said her other daughter has it now…

We had FIFTEEN people at our house on Easter Sunday.  Two are sick, that makes thirteen more to go…except I think I had it already.  I think it’s the nasty new norovirus that has been going around and which I got right after Christmas.

At least I hope that’s what this is.

Or, if my daughter is right – as she said in a follow-up text this morning – it only affects kids 8 and under, or as she put it “the very geriatric, like you Mom”.

Age has its advantages.

 

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Posted on March 30, 2016, in Awesomesauce, Grandchildren, Random Crap, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. My step son called from school last week that he was, “so sick, cold and shaken up from puking in middle of PE in the gym.” And “all of the kids are mad because they had to go sit on the floor while his vomit that had hot dog chunks and chocolate milk was cleaned up. ” I picked him up from school and he said he accidentally on purpose spun so fast on a toy that he got dizzy and spewed do he could come to our house early. (aaaaw)

  2. Nothing to add to your Outbreak Monkey story, but I do have two things to say re: Easter Egg Hunts.

    1. As a child, there was a year we had to have our hunt indoors. I can’t imagine why, living in Miami. Unless there was a hurricane or something. But I digress. We had the hunt indoors, everything was hunky-dory, and then we drove away on a vacation somewhere. Got home after a week or so to the FOULEST stench possible in a Miami home that we had somehow driven away from, locked up tighter than a drum, with no central air. (In retelling this tale, NONE of these details make sense to me). The culprit? An egg we’d missed, of course, hiding in the piano.
    2. Once all of us kids were too cool for school, WE would hide the eggs and make the grownups hunt for them. I don’t think this lasted more than a year or two. Grownups get bored with egg hunts.

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