Author: Amberfly.

Series: Dan and Cam. Weekend at the O'Neill's.

Title: Up and at em!

Category: General.

Warnings: None

Feedback: Yes, please.

Thanks to Annie…

By a stroke of good fortune, the little knuckleheads survived the haunting of Eamon. It was touch and go there, and according to Cameron, we may not be here today, eating Cheerio's and slurping chocolate milk if not for his craftiness. How did the small one fight off the ghostly apparition floating around my room? He farted. Yep, he figured this would do the trick. Oh, it gets better, folks! Ghosts, he assured me, don't like bad smells. Yes, well, they're not the only ones, trust me. I wondered briefly about mentioning a ghost would struggle to gag, but why feed his craziness at zero one hundred hours? I took the ghostbuster back into his room, followed by his itchy, half asleep brother, and we all got some sleep. Eamon number one lies in the comfort of first class, but Eamon number two is now relegated to the toy chest. Eamon the ghost is no doubt hovering like the bad smell that he is.

We all woke up late, and sat around in our pajamas watching cartoons and scratching our collective butts. Daniel more so than others! Sundays are the one day when I don't care how long we stay relaxing, but unfortunately, the laundry still needs to be done. Give it an inch and those socks and boxers will march down the hallway and out the door. Mrs. Grabowski, our part-time housekeeper, dropped by with a fruit cake, and that's when Danny had his latest brilliant idea.

Let me explain.

Yesterday was a typical warm June day, and the kids were fascinated by the zipping, zooming little birds hunting for insects. I think they are swallows, and watching them hunt should have been a nudge for me to use bug repellant, but we were too busy enjoying their antics. I should have known better I guess. Even after a year, there's a lot I need to learn, and it reinforces to me again what a great mom Sara was.

The birds finally flew away to find more fertile feeding places, and while I watered the yard, the kids rolled around on the grass playing. They got a little burned, and ended up being bit by whatever the hell lives in Colorado Springs buffalo grass. The swallows left their dessert behind apparently. By the time they were ready for bed, Danny and Cam were covered in tiny red bites. Cammie is okay, slap some calamine lotion on him and he is fine and dandy. Why does --no feeling, no sense-- come to mind? Daniel is a different matter, he is systematically driven nuts by insect bites. He won't leave them alone, and despite washing the bites with soap and water, they always end up infected and sore. I dabbed him with calamine lotion as well before I put him back to bed, all pink and sticky.

I didn't give it another thought until the next morning when he woke up grumpy, and clearly bothered by the bites. I checked him out, and I have to admit he's unhappy with good reason; kid is a polka dot disaster. They say some blood types attract mosquitoes more than others, and Danny is definitely one of the favored. Of course he is. Dr. Jackson's track record is impressive. He had been chased by an unas, shot at by snakes, and stalked by a nut job princess, so why am I not surprised. Chasing him around the kitchen to dab on the loathed calamine lotion, the doorbell rang just as I was about to duct tape his hands to his head.

"Mrs. Grabowski! Come in!" I am nothing if not polite to the woman who fights our dust bunnies and kills breeding microbes. Telling ya, if we were invaded by hostiles, she'd be he one to hide behind! Woman is an armory of toxic cleaning fluids.

"General O'Neill, I made the children cake! It's their favorite! It's cake!"

Yep, I have Jack Benny as a house keeper.

I made Mrs. Grabowski her cup of green tea, and she watched Danny scratch and fidget while stirring in her five sugars. She inspected his arm, checked out his belly, but wisely declined the offer of a bird's eye view of his bitten butt. Clucking her tongue, she uttered those innocent words. That's all, just a throw away comment! It all seemed so harmless at the time. What was I thinking! This is Daniel! I should know better, and I deserve what I got really.

"I'd rinse those bites in vinegar," she said eating most of the cake she brought, "trust me; General, it'll stop those suckers itching in no time."

See? How was I to know? What in those words said turn yourself into pickled cabbage? I stand accused and take the fifth. Mrs. Grabowski distracted me by insisting on helping me with some laundry, and this is what I figure happened. I'm not positive mind you, Daniel isn't talking. The little fart decided Mrs. Grabowski's remedy was foolproof, after all anyone who can made cupcakes has to be an Einstein. Why? Who knows, Daniel's mind works in strange ways. He knew I'd be less than impressed, so he waited until I was in the utility room, and scampered into the bathroom with his stolen pint of vinegar. With great stealth, not to mention stupidity, he proceeded to lock the door, and dump the vinegar into the tub. See any holes in this theory? Good. There he sat, plastic shower cap on head, pickling away until I went looking for him. Normally I have him underfoot, firing away as many questions as he can before forced to take breath. I'm used to this, and I listen to about one tenth before I snap and tell him to stop with the jabber. Fifteen minutes and no Daniel? Well, let's just say alarms bells rang. So, I went lookin'.

Knocking on the locked bathroom door, my bull-shit-meter was on overdrive.

"Daniel?"

"G'way, Daddy! I'm taking a leak!"

"Daniel? The can is next door."

"Huh? Oh! G'way, Daddy, I'm shaving!"

"Open the damn door."

There he was, butt naked, plastic shower cap on his head, demanding to know why a guy can't take a bath in peace. Gotta love his style.

Daniel is currently slumped on his chair, shattered, and smelling like New York bum in the middle of July. Predictably, his sensitive skin didn't like the whole pickling thing, and his eyes remind me of mine after a night on the happy juice. Ah, bloodshot… I remember those days well. Mrs. Graboswki was horrified, and immediately flew into grandmotherly overdrive. She insisted on calling her married daughter's next door neighbors' nephew. He's a med student, first year! Kill me now; while we have her family, we have hope.

I finally got my loose-lipped housekeeper out of the door, wringing her hands, and promising to speak to her other daughter's chiropractor. That should be helpful.

Cameron is beside himself, he wants to stink like Danny. This is why I drink.

TBC…