We are under seige.
There is no sleep allowed.
No showers either.
If you shut your eyes they open them. Turn on the water they flop to the ground in despair.
You can brush your teeth as long as it can be done without hands and pee only if you can balance a toddler on your lap.
Your shirt will be used for a kleenex, your lap, a puke bucket and your clothes only changed once their Tylenol kicks in.
Diapers that could kill a small animal must be changed and breath that makes your toes curl is aimed your way.
You must sit when they tell you to, stand when they pull you up and offer toast and soup on demand.
No one can leave the house, their germs can be seen from a mile away. They goob on the window if you walk to the mailbox alone.
No one will enter either, Hazmat suits are not available at your local store.
We tried to wave our white flag but had to shut the door for fear of an asthma attack.
Tried to spell SOS with Saltines but our captors ate them rabidly.
So we will sit, in the trenches, our runny-nosed dictators circling the camp, ears ringing from Fresh Beat Band marathons, hands raw from hand sanitizer and wait for our release…
When we will tiptoe through preschool pick up, avoid indoor play gyms like the plague,
and hope for a day when small children remember to cover their mouths, wash their hands and not. touch. anything.
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