The 4th went well, with fireworks, watermelon and all that American tradition jazz. We donned powder wigs and chopped down cherry trees. Or really, the closest thing we came to the patriotic past was eating cherries, but they were good so it works.
And then yesterday, like Paul Revere racing into town, announcing "The Puke is coming!", the summertime flu hit. Baloney got hit first and hard, yakking a million times. Then Middle,and by the grace of Upchuck Charles, Oldielocks did not get it. Which is amazing, because the other two were puking more than enough. It finally subsided last night, and they are on the mend.
So that's the weekend. Back to my regularly scheduled programming.