It's a Tree AND a Flower

By virtue of some miracle, I have made it to Friday night. Some weeks it's a sketchier feat than others. And this week was a killer.

But here I am, and the work week is behind me. Also drawn to a close is Third Grader's latest theatrical adventure - a student rendition of The Secret Garden, in which Third Grader played a groundskeeper, and also took a stab at a few duets. She informed me a few days ago that she had a good chance at performing a solo, as one of her duet partners had developed a strange rash inside her mouth and also on her hand. Hm.

"She told me," Third Grader casually shared, "that if she gets the rash on her foot next, she'll have hand foot and mouth disease. That's not a real thing, right?"

Oh, yes, Third Grader. It's a real thing. It's at least as real as the nasty cough that I heard escaping from the mouth of yet another acting student at pick up that day. And the little girl crying on Monday because her ear hurt? Possibly a real thing as well. Lots of real things floating around that acting camp this week. Tress not happy.

So I told my dear, healthy Third Grader - who is about to embark upon a very long car ride this weekend to enjoy our long awaited family vacation which is already paid for - that she might want to mention to her acting teacher that so-and-so has a little rash thing going on. She might also want to mention, I suggested, that if she, herself, develops a rash, or a cough, or some other nifty little contagious ailment as a result of other parents not being considerate enough to remove their sick children from the program, that her mother is going to FLIP OUT. ...my actual suggestion was much more succinct and brief, but it definitely contained the words FLIP OUT. And she did, in fact, convey my message. And hand mouth and not-yet-foot girl was excused early that day, as well as ear ache girl. Third Grader picked up a new duet partner to replace hand mouth and not-yet-foot girl, so no solo. But also no disease so far. So vacation will carry on.

We are headed to balmy old Virginia on Sunday. Home of the dogwood (hence, the title...) Oh, and the baked ham. And hopefully something resembling summertime weather. I'm really excited to be going away with the girls for a few days, but I'm getting less and less excited about this massive drive on Sunday. My plan is leave before dawn and get a few hours in before they are fully conscious. That is, if I can wake up that early. I hope I can wake up that early. For the love of mileage, that's going to be a long day...

I'm planning to take my laptop with me, in the very longshot chance that I might want to write something while I'm away - but don't hold your breath, blogosphere. I believe I saw the words "dial up access" buried in the fine print of my Expedia hotel confirmation. Doesn't bode well. But one never knows, does one?

Since tomorrow is all about the packing, and since I probably need to cut tomorrow off at about 4 p.m. so I can front-load some sleep - and since that will never actually happen, not with two Tornadoes under foot - I think I best head off to bed now. Ta.