BeYoYo had been sick the week before Thanksgiving. He had a cough and a runny nose and then he spiked a fever of 103.5. I took him to the doctor and he tested negative for flu, she figured it was a virus but said he was fine to be around people after 24 hours fever free. So we quarantined him and gave him gatorade and otherwise went on with life.
Our Thanksgiving plans were to go to my aunt's house in Griffin for lunch, then to The Husband's grandmother's in Auburn (Georgia, not Alabama) for dinner on Thursday. On Wednesday, The Boy started with a fever. He was at my mom's house when I was at work, and she texted to say she knew he didn't feel well when he was being still.
I called my aunt to tell her he was sick. The Husband had offered to stay home with him while BeYoYo and I went to lunch, but my aunt was concerned about us having been exposed too, and she didn't want anyone else to get sick. She and I decided that we would not indeed come after all.
Instead we spent Thanksgiving morning watching Christmas movies and decorating for Christmas. The tree, Rubbermaid boxes of ornaments, wreaths, nativities, and lights, all spread from the attic to the living room. I asked BeYoYo if he wanted to help put ornaments on the tree, he said "No fanks. We did that last year."
Of course The Boy was feeling just fine. He was fever free and had no other symptoms. I took a nap to recover from the decorating, and we prepared to go to dinner. We'd seen no signs of illness for at least 24 hours so it should be fine. There are lots of kids on The Husband's side of the family, and both boys really wanted to see their cousins. We loaded up and headed that way.
The boys ran and ran outside with their cousins while the adults chatted inside and got the food ready. We had a whole room of desserts. Children were laughing and playing. Adults were gathered together. So much to be thankful for! We called all the kids inside for the blessing, and they came in with the trademark cherry red cheeks you only see on cold children and Santa Claus. BeYoYo asked me to hold him for the blessing, and I picked him up and held his cold face against my chest. He had really gotten worked up running outside in the cold, and the running activated his cough from the week before. When he started coughing I stepped out onto the porch by the kitchen so that we wouldn't interrupt the blessing. He coughed a hard cough, the kind where you're thinking he might be able to produce some mucus. I was about to tell him to try to get the mucus out when he puked all over me.
All over my sweater and chest and neck, and his pants and shoes. I yelled into the kitchen to tell The Husband I needed his help. He told us to head to the wash room in the back of the house and he'd meet us there. I squeezed through the kitchen, through the line of adults fixing plates, through the dining room full of desserts and people starting to eat, down the hall, and to the wash room. BeYoYo was fine now that he'd gotten all of the mucus and other contents of his stomach out. He patted my face with his hand and said "it's okay mama, right? It was only an accident." I assured him through my gags that it was fine that he'd barfed on me during the Thanksgiving blessing. 'Tis the season.
We pulled off his hoodie, as he had a regular shirt underneath. I used a paper towel to wipe the puke off his pants and his hands and my chest and neck. I took off my sweater, but only had a skimpy cami underneath and it was not appropriate for wear outside the house or even outside the bedroom, honestly. The Husband appeared, having been to the car to investigate additional clothing options. We pulled BeYoYo's pants off and put on pajama pants for him. And all The Husband could find in the car for me was a raincoat. We bagged up the puke clothes in a grocery sack and I put on the raincoat on top of my cami. BeYoYo and I washed hands and went back in the kitchen to fix plates. It was a lovely Thanksgiving, aside from the puke fluke and me wearing a raincoat.
The next day the boys went to grandma's to play with cousins. They set up a candy sale on the front lawn to sell candy to passersby. They made a sign on a piece of notebook paper and listed individually wrapped mini candy canes for 25 cents each. They held each other up to emphasize their sign, but since we're talking kids holding kids, the holdee was just a mere inch higher off the ground than they were when they were standing. The adults took turns buying candy for a quarter. The kids did flips and cheers and yelled at cars. One poor guy rode by on a bicycle and they chased him, yelling "Candy! Twenty-five cents! Candy! Twenty-five cents!" The guy didn't make eye contact with any of the kids running alongside him, and we reigned them in. One stranger stopped and gave them five whole dollars and they were thrilled!
All seven of these kids are alphas and think they are in charge. I suggested maybe they needed a bigger sign so strangers would be able to see what they were doing. The Boy and one cousin went in to investigate bigger sign options, and they came back with some form of box lid as well as a folding table. The nine year old struggled with the table, then got frustrated and gave up. The Boy had started on the sign, but had started it in portrait instead of landscape, so there wasn't as much room to write. That didn't deter him from starting. He wrote CA in large letters, and then the 9yo came to "help". They argued back and forth about who was going to write. Then a 5yo cousin cried because his brother said he couldn't hold the sign, which wasn't finished. Meanwhile a 6yo cousin set up the folding table on her own. The other kids were still cheering and yelling at cars and trying to recruit customers. They finished the pitiful sign, which now said:
CANdy
It seemed more like a canned food drive or maybe a Obama speech than a candy sale.
Luckily it started drizzling and we were able to get them to all come inside. They had made $6 in the hour they'd been outside. They came inside in a flurry, all talking about their successful sale. The two nine year olds who started the sale gave The Boy 65 cents for his help. The others held out their hands and the 9 year olds told them that The Boy was their only employee. A 7 year old demanded to be paid "I was doing flips for you! And I was yelling at cars too!" Her sister said "well, we didn't ASK you to do that. You were a volunteer." The 7 year old stomped off and The Boy kindly offered to share some of his 65 cents with her. She refused his money and set out to start her own candy shop in the living room. Hearing the commotion, I asked the two 9 year olds if they'd paid for their inventory. They said they already had, since they'd given The Boy his share. I explained the concept of inventory and told them if they didn't pay BeBe for the candy canes, it would be like stealing. I also explained that they had to pay her rent since they had been using her property for their business. They set off to reimburse Bebe. Then they came back and The Husband told them they'd need to pay taxes at 40%. They counted out 40 cents. He explained that they had to pay 40%, not 40 cents. They set about figuring out 40% of what they had left after rent and inventory and The Boy's commission. The Husband explained that they actually owed 40% of their total, not just what was left. They were disappointed and said "but we won't have any money left for us! And this was our idea!" My sister-in-law, who is mother to one of the 9 year olds and a small business owner, told them "owners always pay themselves last."
They went to investigate the new candy store in the living room, where BeYoYo was quickly eating the inventory. The 7 year old was creating an elaborate display of candy canes on the top of the box lid on the floor. The Boy showed up with a canister of gum, the kind with square gum inside that is unwrapped. He dumped out the gum because he wanted to turn the canister into a bank for his 65 cents, obviously. There were cubes of gums rolling all about, and they had an idea to use the gum for their display. They squished pieces of gum into the box and used them to make candy cane stands. BeYoYo tried to sneak more candy, but the big kids told him he could only eat the ones that were broken. He set off to break some so he could eat them, but all the big kids yelled at him and he rolled his eyes and poked out his lip. And he didn't know where to put his sucker and his gum and his candy cane while he pouted. You can imagine how sticky he was.
The day ended with Bebe and Uncle Grant taking everyone to the Dollar Tree to spend their hard-earned money. Since they only ended up with a few cents each, I'm guessing Bebe and Uncle Grant contributed some to the candy sale fund. The Boy came back with a stuffed animal Sloth that he has named Chocolate Face.
A Sloth named Chocolate Face is now my Christmas persona. If you need me, I'll be on the couch eating chocolate and not moving. In my rain coat.
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