Hand Foot and Mouth disease hit our house last October and it hit hard. Sam missed several days of school - Doc said he could go, school said no-way. Apparently, once the bumps appear, you're no longer contagious, but school wouldn't let him in. I can understand; he looked pretty gross! But he didn't feel sick at all, so it was hard to know what to do all day.
So we had a dance party, Ghostbusters-style.
We put in my Ghostbuster's soundtrack on cassette tape (from 30 some-odd years ago), and played that puppy over and over and over. Sam's quite the dancer, and Evie just loves to have a good time! We were in there several hours, I think? Everybody was hot and sweaty and tired by the time we were done dancing and playing.
That afternoon, in keeping with the day's Ghostbuster's theme, my little Peter Venkman wrote a ghost story. It helped us feel like we had done something at least a little school-ish that day. Sam dictated it to me and I wrote it down for him, but the words were all his. He illustrated it as well, my favorite picture being the last one, with the dead ghost throwing up on the men's pants. Such a boy. My favorite sentence was the last one, too. What an ending, right? But having watched the movie several times myself, Sam's story sounded awfully familiar...
Once upon a time, three men found a ghost at a library. The ghost was yellow. It was called a Flipper Tipper which is a yellow ghost-duck with webbed feet. The ghost flew to the men even though it didn't have wings. So the men ran away yelling "Ahhh!" They ran into their big building house and slammed the door. They locked the door with wood and plastic and hard metal. They felt safe and secure.
RAT! RAT! RAT! There was someone at the door. They could hear even thought the metal was hard. They took all three things off but it was the librarian. The librarian said, "There's some ghost in the library between shelf number one and number two". So they went back and when the ghost wasn't looking they tip-toed close and stood right next to him and grabbed his arm and slammed him on the ground. Then they stepped on him. The ghost threw up on their pants. The ghost was dead. They stepped on him good enough.
by Sam Straka