Day Three here at Pox central.

Number of spots on Franny... 503... no, make that 504.

Number of spots on Bougie... none.

My kind and brave friend Emily volunteered her son Eli to be a guinea pig, so he came over for a playdate today. He's been vaccinated, so it wasn't exactly high risk behavior. But, as Franny's case has proven, vaccines can be imperfect. So, we shall see.

Yesterday, I did an author visit at the Sheridan School, here in North-by-Northwest Washington, DC. I met with a very eager and peppy audience of 2nd and 3rd graders, who greeted me with praise about my appearance ("You're pretty! I love your boots!") and my books ("I love your books!"). These love-ly and love-ing kiddos were old pros at author visits (they informed me, "We're meeting Graeme Base tomorrow") and did a super job asking great questions I frequently hear ("Where do you get your ideas?") as well as some I've never heard before ("If you combined Ninety-Three In My Family with Chicken Bedtime Is Really Early, what would it become?").

I always love talking with kids. So much so that today I sound like there's a blue speckled frog (or two... or eight!) in my throat. Good thing I'm staying inside with my pox-y pal, drinking tea and playing board games and theoretically baking a carrot cake if I finish this entry.

Yum, cake! Bye!