After your dad went to the pharmacy last week, he came home with your antibiotics and said, "That woman at the pharmacy spent twenty minutes explaining to me how to put stickers on this dose chart. I wanted to say, 'Look, lady, the Navy trusted me to fly a multi-million dollar helicopter through a war zone. I'm pretty sure I can put stickers on a piece of paper.'"
I don't need to tell you that we've already lost the sheet of stickers, and I found the chart itself under the refrigerator this morning. Good thing for our military that helicopters can't fit under household appliances.
Your ear infection seems to have completely cleared up, and you're back to your normal happy self.
Your dad, however, recently developed a mysterious rash on his legs and upper body. I think we finally traced it to our new laundry detergent. Apparently, your dad is so manly that even the idea of perfume touching his skin makes him break out in hives. I switched us to a new brand, Stud Suds Woolite, and that seems to be clearing up the problem.
My foot is still recovering from its second-degree burn. Dropping a fire extinguisher on it this morning was just another shot of painful, delicious irony.
Love,
Mom
* Not really.
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