*Parenting note: The youngest child, of any large family, will never ever, ever be as coddled, sheltered, or spared as the siblings who came before her. She will see monsters, and hear tales, and know the three main tactics of defense against vampires, rebel robots, and zombies. Maria is no less precious, no less protected and respected, but she has big brothers, and the big brothers have friends, and honestly... zombies are hard to contain!! She does not watch this television program. No way. No how. But, our darling girl knows a thing or two... somehow or another...
Shhhh... in spite of all the rotty bits, apparently zombies have terrific hearing.
The windows are covered. Feeling shut in, yet?
Plenty of reading material, but only one gas mask.
Seeds. Good thinking.
Just to add to the realism, our oven died. Again! Again. Pardon me. I need a moment. Last time it took nearly three months to bring the darn thing back to life. Last time it was at the start of the holidays... Thanksgiving, birthdays, class parties, Christmas! No baking! No roasting! Crying... pitiful, sad crying...
Max brought out his Nerf arsenal. Maria made targets. Ah, art. How darling of her to illustrate and hang... whoa! Gah! Blarghh... Maria! These are bugusting!
There's no point, she only laughs, proudly, then aims and takes fire.
This isn't one of the target zombies.
Someone must have sketched me while I was napping, during my pitiful, moaning, and writhing phase. It is, unfortunately, a good likeness. I feel this hideous.
The party-ers arrived and feasted, and took at aim at villainous foes, and watched some gross shows. And from upstairs, where Maria and I watched Public Television, and snuggled, it seemed like a pretty good time!