
Then we asked her to tell it to us again. And then we laughed and laughed and laughed...

David Shannon’s A Bad Case of the Stripes is a book about a girl who contracts—I’m surmising from the cover—an unusual pigmentary disorder. The reason I’m not exactly sure how her condition came about is because as we were five pages into the book at bedtime, Olivia slammed it shut and made us promise that we’d never read it to her again. Clearly, she was having a bad case of A Bad Case. 

On this first day of April, we were fooled into thinking that Olivia’s flu had flown the coop. It returned this afternoon with a vengeance, at which time we decided to seek professional help to make sure this strain, although ugly and persistent, was nothing serious.
The doctor at the drop-in clinic concluded as such, and so we retreated back home to the scene of many a grime (slime?)—the couch—for yet another round of R&R&R (rest and recuperation and regurgitation).
OK are the initials of our daughter's first and last names. Reed is the name of Olivia's younger brother.