It took us longer than I thought it would to get the house back in order after the carpet was installed. It took one day to move everything off the floor and a week to put it all back.
In the meantime, Sam stood on the arm of the couch and jumped off. Afterwards, he crumpled into a bawling heap on the floor. He wouldn't put weight on his right foot for two days. Greg and I were fairly certain it wasn't broken, but eventually decided maybe a doctor should see it. The doctor agreed that this was a good idea, saying something about growth plates. After having x-rays of both feet just for comparison's sake, the doctor said his foot seemed fine and was probably just bruised.
The best part about the doctor's visit was that Sam came away with a feeling of the significance of his injury and a stern admonition from the doctor to stop jumping off the couch. (Also, he thought getting his feet x-rayed was loads of fun, but that wasn't really the point.) He's still limping slightly, but that's probably because once he decided he could walk, he figured he might as well run and jump, too.
Jack was sent home sick from school yesterday. He spent the rest of the day on the couch alternately whining and throwing up. This didn't let up until last night which he spent in bed alternately whining and throwing up. We thought he was better today and this evening ventured a walk to the local mexican place with Eric, Nancy and the cousins only for Jack to get sick there, too. Oops.
Sam, not pleased to be cooped up in the house for two days with his brother getting the lion's share of mommy-time, decided to release his inner devil and go on the rampage. He scribbled on every single sheet of paper in the notepad I keep by the phone. He immersed an entire roll of toilet paper in the toilet. He stuck half a roll of stamps on the coffee table (Have you ever tried to peel a stamp after it was stuck? The post office means business with those things, not to mention 37 cents a sticker is pretty pricey if you ask me.) He flushed a washcloth down the toilet, which, thankfully, went without stopping the thing up. He scribbled on the kitchen table with a pencil because he was angry I would not let him have a pen (clearly a child not clear on the concept.) He refused to go to sleep deciding that he did NOT like his new bed or the new airplane pictures in his room and also that he was suddenly afraid of the dark. There is more, but my poor brain has blocked it out already.
Meanwhile, Greg, who was out of town on business most of the week, spent today hiking the Grand Canyon with some work pals. Not that there's anything wrong with that.