I’ve never been a gambling man and I have zero interest in or aptitude for mathematics, but I find myself wondering about odds. Specifically, in relation to field trips.
I’ve been pondering this:
- Out of a class of 32, how likely is it that you’ll end up with a kid with active Covid in your hermetically sealed car?
- What are the chances you’ll get sick if you do?
- Out of a class of 32, how likely is it that you’ll end up with two Covid-shedding kids, both adorned in decorative, ineffective masks?
I’d have ranked that last probability as fairly low, rather like lightning striking twice in the same place. Clearly I suck at calculating risk. Before I received the “Positive Covid Exposure” notification from the school yesterday (the third in a week), I had a strange sense of foreboding, so I wasn’t surprised to learn about our compounded exposure. While I may be hopeless at math, it seems I have some skill in the art of prognostication—even more than I have in roping.
Now I’m patiently waiting for the Covid axe to fall. You know how your head starts itching when you think about head lice? Surely that happens to you all the time. At the moment, Ember and I keep imagining we have sore throats, but they’re not real. Yet. PCR tests are scheduled for both of us tomorrow.
This is the pooping-est kitten. His diarrhea leads to endless litterbox-scoopings and butt- and paw-wipings (since his mommy ain’t here to do it for him). I’m in regular contact with Sarah about his health status, and she’s super-helpful. It’s awfully nice to have a veterinarian on-call.
His favorite thing to do is to ignore his array of toys and instead pounce, needle-teeth and talons bared, onto the lower extremities of the nearest human. Despite the challenges, he’s a cute little thing. During his playtimes he waddles after us from place to place, and purrs up a tiny storm.
My floors are now adorned with litter-crystals, glimmering like jewels in the slanting afternoon sunlight, adhering to our soles wherever we wander.
Ember spends vast amounts of time trying to dream up names for him. Domino, Cloud, Ermine, and dozens more, none of which quite fit. Although she knows this is a short-term arrangement, she’s already worrying about giving him back to Sarah. Maybe this’ll be our last foster, then? I don’t want Ember to be sad.
Oh: thank you to Molly, Small and Jackleen for your wonderful comments on the last post! I love seeing them.
I am doubly appalled that a second child in your carpool was also allowed to go on the field trip, while showing symptoms!
You could call the kitten “Ears”, a la your sainted papa!
I am well-familiar with the floor adorned in litter. Robo does a good job of keeping them at bay, I find. (Sometimes turning its power up to Turbo or even Max, if needed.)
Do you have wand toys to use with the kitten? The problem is that still toys are FAR less exciting than moving humans — so toys that are movable (from a distance) are often a better bet.
Actually, this second child had no symptoms on the day of the field trip, so it couldn’t be helped. No pre-trip COVID tests were required either, so it just happens. Crappy luck for us, though. Since she’s a super-close friend of the first, it’s not surprising she got it too.