Witching Hour

Have been worrying about how I’m going to balance the multiple demands of that delicate witching hour, 4-5, now that the weather is gorgeous and my toddler wants to play outside with the big kids. Can’t be in two places at once. Well, this may be my fate (and our neighbours’): me shouting every minute and a half out the open windows, “Who can see CJ??” Thank heavens for good fences.

On the other hand, my shouting is probably the least of our neighbours’ noise concerns, given the cacophony of construction orchestration going on outside our front door. This is the clearly marked “Road Closed” sign, which I ran out just now to photograph because it WILL NOT LAST. In fact, Kev informs me that the line-up of pylons has already been dismantled by some enterprising driver in a hurry. I am striving not to let it bug me lest I morph into one of our neighbours, whom I shall refer to as The Mayor of W Street, who lives to be the bearer of bad news, and is on a quest to smite those who commit all and any minor by-law and traffic infractions. He’s also sometimes generous, and this afternoon left for us, without a word of explanation, this little red wagon.

Inside and Out
Last Day of Being Seven

2 Comments

  1. hee. this is familiar. i just thought to myself….when did i become the parent that yells for her kids instead of going to them?

    maybe when number three came…

    Reply
  2. I do believe I know exactly who you mean. Does he, by chance, own a lot of bikes as well?

    I know what you mean about the witching hour. I spend a lot of time putting Lauchy in the middle of the yard surrounded by balls etc. and then make a mad dash up to the kitchen. Do something quickly while looking out the back door several times a minute, run back out if need be. And so on. Thank goodness for fences and big sisters who like to boss and play “mom”.

    Reply

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