Monday, August 9, 2010

Dumb and Dumber

My house now almost has floors, but not quite, which means all the furniture is currently pushed into the middle of the rooms and under tarps on the back patio and in the hallways, and the kitchen is filled with tools and boards and sawdust, and we have no dining room table or functioning TV...which naturally means it was a perfect time for the boys to get horrible cases of poison oak. Again.

Are my kids the only ones who repeatedly don't learn their lesson about this stuff? Or are they the only hooligans allowed to run wild through the forest, or what? Because it's getting ridiculous. And this particular tangle with poison oak displayed a level of ridiculousness impressive even for them.

I won't name names, due to the sensitive nature of this story (you'll see), but it went something like this:

Brother #1: (playing out in the woods) Um, I need to go.
Brother #2: Go?
Brother #1: Yeah, as in, go.

Brother #2 waits.

Brother #1: Can you hand me some leaves?
Brother #2 hands them over. (You see where this is going, right?)

30 minutes later...

Brother #2: Hmm. My hands (and face where he's touched it) are all red and itchy.
Brother #1: Oh wow, yeah. That's bad.
Brother #2: I think it's poison oak again.
Brother #1: Yep! It sure is! (Perhaps a laugh or two at his brother's expense.) I can't believe you did that again! Glad I didn't touch it!

Beat of silence, then...

Brother #1: Oh. Oh nooooooo.

That's right: One boy has poison oak all over his hands, the other has it all over his...unmentionables. We let them suffer through it with over-the-counter remedies for about 24 hours (or until Brother #1 could barely walk and Brother #2's face was all puffy), and then caved and got them both prescriptions for prednisone, the only thing that seems to clear it up for us. But this was after dealing with a near constant, pitiful stream of  ohhhhh and ahhhhhhh and owwwww as the boys writhed on the (displaced) couch in misery. On the other hand, the pharmacist got a lot of amusement out of our tale, so I'm glad I brightened his day, anyway.

In the meantime, I'm making my kids commit this to memory. Leaves of three, leave them be, boys.

Leave them be.
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