We got Noro'ed. Well I think we did anyway, the physical evidence would say so, but to look at the girls you wouldn't know. However when one has to cut the vest top off the small child because of an explodapoo, one knows roughly how one's day is going to go. I confess I thought Paul was hamming up his reaction to yesterdays explodapoo (and he only had the back to clear up, today she went for full coverage) however he was entirely justified in his reaction because, well, ick. Clara was livid that she was having to be showered off two days in a row poor love. Phoebe got the other end and the poor poppet had to consign her much longed for and hard won post swimming Happy Meal to the great white telephone. If I am lucky then it will put her off Fat Rons for life but I somehow doubt it.
Because of illness we have been consigned to barracks (with windows wide open, not nice when it is cold out there). We have passed the time playing "Madagascar" with the animals, watching Dancing on Ice (I fast forwarded through the ads and sponsorship as last time I let them watch it I didn't and Clara, who was trying to copy all the dance moves, also took it upon herself to copy the snogging in the ads... with me!) and Ice Princess that was very kindly sent to us from Love Film. I also made some medicinal Snickerdoodles from Nigella's How to Be A Domestic Goddess. I may have sent Paul and email at around 4pm threatening severe bodily harm in a public space if he wasn't home on time, but hey 11 hrs with 2 bored children is NOT pretty.