Eh. I can deal with vomit and poop. I once babysat a two-year-old who'd make himself vomit when he wanted his mother to come home. (It worked the first time -- he got sick, I cleaned it up and settled him down with a blanket and a bottle of diluted apple juice and called his mother, and she came home. After that, we figured out what was going on, but it took about five more times before he realized that vomiting wouldn't get his mom to come home anymore. I'm not quite sure how he was doing it, but he would be crying, then look at me, then do some sort of weird breathing thing, and then he'd be throwing up.)

I think this might be asshole-speak for "I'm sorry." Part of me thinks you should take the high road and just block his email address.

Oh, I'm sure that it is. I hate apologies that are not apologies. They are so fucking entitled. Rather, they come from people who think they are.

Damn, Hil. That's a talent. I'm not sure it's a talent that goes too much beyond age two (and/or college), but during its lifespan it's impressive.

Feh. Went to pick up my skirt that I was having altered, totally didn't think about the fact that they closed at 7. At least it occurred to me in the car so that it wasn't a shock when i got there. I'm trying to decide if I care enough to pick it up before my trip tomorrow. But, it adds more than doubles my travel time. It can be done, but am I that invested?

Holy crap, Barb, that is the funniest thing I have seen in my life.

I had a kid I babysat who would get so upset that he'd vomit. That was fun. Most of the time I could distract him out of it. Thankfully.

For the lovers of Shakespeare, comedy, Catherine Tate, and/or David Tennant.

So funny on so many levels. (also one of the reasons I use my maiden+married name most of the time) Thanks for sharing, Barb.

Grading. I cannot do it anymore. I just can't. Someone wrote this as his answer on a quiz:

To be completely honest, I have not paid attention to the whole delta notation and would wish that we could just move on. Please don't take this as me being a smart-ass, but because I took calc in high school, this section of the material is just all review for me.

That's it. I cannot deal with this anymore.

Argh, Hil. That's obnoxious.

Sorry I disappeared. I suddenly realized I had to run around and get people. Aidan's fine now--they had Tuesday off and today he was back to normal. Kara's fine, too. I had to make a run to the thrift store this afternoon because both of them have suddenly grown again and very little was fitting. Then we went to the library to get Greg, and Kara asked a librarian to please help her find books about God..." in the NON-fiction section."

I was thanked and apologized to for the lack of AV equipment. They were all very nice people and what I did was fun. Mostly, it was nice to see a lightbulb go off over someone's head, or spark discussion about something interesting. I love that.

Toddlers and babies have hair-trigger gag reflexes, so it's not unusual for a young kid to be able to cry hard enough to vomit. (Probably an evolutionary countermeasure to the otherwise suicidal "Ooh, something on the floor - I wonder what it tastes like!" curiosity of that age.)

Please don't take this as me being a smart-ass, but because I took calc in high school, this section of the material is just all review for me.

"Please don't take this as me being a smart-ass, but because I'm the teacher, YOU FAIL."