It's like "The Children of the Corn" over here.

First of all, it's never a good sign when you find that the medicine cabinet has been raided and you know you didn't do it.  By process of elimination that leaves the seven-year-old or the four-year-old. One thinks she's smarter than any doctor on the planet and the other can only read the words "cat" and "ball."  Neither makes me feel any better.

It's already so oppressively hot that the children are resorting to bizarre activities like "making space boots out of foil and duct tape." Whatever.

Then there's Snotty McCougherson whom I had the pleasure of having a 4 hour mother/son date with at the After Hours clinic.

The hubs is so consumed with work {Missions Sunday} that a hospital gown and IV won't stop him from pounding away at his e-mail and muttering all sorts of things under his breath.  More about this situation later.

And finally, this little thing is having bizarre sleep walking issues.  Last night I almost punched her in the face when my eyes snapped open at 3 AM to find her staring over our bed like a scene from Carrie or something.  An hour later I found her standing in the living room drinking a water bottle.  (I do give her props for creating this dress out of a scarf.  She's nothing if not resourceful.)

I'm officially in survival mode.  I'm googling things like "cheap airline tickets," "how much coffee is too much," and "the closest hotel to an Ikea."  

Is it August yet?