I call a Do-Over!

     "Yeah... *sigh with forehead rubbing*  those are mine."  Those two filthy, nose picking, possibly spider-eating, bruise-covered, pooting, burping, wiggling heathens are mine.

This week has been interesting... comedy-of-errors interesting.  Aaaand it's not even Friday...

Let's start with Monday, shall we?

Sass:  Two boo-boo reports resulting in a decently bloodied knee and banged up nose.
Sprinkles:  A diaper blowout that had the teacher using phrases like "crawled up her back" and "Chernobyl-esque"...

Tuesday:

Sass insists that Sprinks be "Spider Girl" to his Spiderman but she may have taken this to heart and too far...

     I walk into Sprinks school room to pick her up and, instead of smiles and hellos from her teachers, I get "We need to show you something." and dead-eyed stares.  "Okay", I say wondering what devilish debauchery my sweet little daughter has been party to... this time.  The lead teacher walks over, like a pall bearer at a funeral, a crumpled up paper towel clutched out in front of her.  It must be contagious by the way she is holding it.  "We found her playing with this." she says very seriously.  A turd?  I think to myself.  I can handle that AND it wouldn't be the first time anyway...  
     The teacher slowly and carefully peels back a corner of the towel to reveal... a giant crumpled up spider.  Both teachers go silent, waiting for my reaction.  In lieu of screeching like a banshee while leaping backwards fast enough to shed my own skin in a desperate attempt to put some distance between myself and my most hated of enemies I say "Oh.  Well.  Hmmmm....  It's missing its abdomen.  I wonder if somebody has spider breath?"  Shocked silence coats the room while I sweetly smile down at my tiny, organic vacuum cleaner.  "Oh and don't worry... it's not a Brown Recluse (which is why I knew they were afraid to show it to me as they are relatively common here).  It's too big and its legs are banded.  It's a Wolf Spider of some sort."  More shocked silence.
     As I forced myself to pick up my innocent little muffin while trying desperately to suppress my gag reflex and convince my subconscious that she WASN'T covered in nasty, filthy spider hairs, I realized I probably hadn't handled that well.  "Spider, Mommy?" she cooed sweetly.  "Yes, sweetie... that's a spider.  But we really shouldn't play with those..."  *hack, wretch, gag*

No sense in the next generation inheriting my all-encompassing and paralyzing fear of the eight-legged, right?

*shudder*  I need a shower....

Wednesday:

This.

Yeah... we got a call from school that someone had unsuccessfully played "Superman" off some playground equipment and is now 2/3rds angry, swollen noggin.  Did I mention that we are on a first name basis with our pediatrician?  He's fine, btw... he got his Daddy's skull....

*sigh*

I fear for today, Friday, and Saturday... oh, and Sunday.  Betcher britches it starts all over again on Monday, too....