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.
We arrive early, wondering … will anyone else show up? And, is that thunder?
Dinner conversation (with Fooey). “Oops! Don’t worry, Mommy, you can clean it up, and then you can go and get me some more.” “Sigh. I am not your personal slave and servant.” “Well, I need a servant.”
After-dinner conversation: “Can we go outside to play?” Uh, yes. Yes!
And on another topic altogether, file this under things I never imagined doing: pulling out a tooth, not my own. In the dark. Whilst the child in question remained in her bunk bed. “Mommy, this tooth hurts too much to sleep.” “Well, what I can do to help?” “Can you pull it out? Please?” Small moment of silence. “Mommy, that’s the wrong tooth. That one isn’t even loose.”
For the record, the one that was extracted successfully, after much arrghing and some gore, was the one that had started out loose. Loose-ish, in my opinion. But I think she wanted it out mostly so she could try drinking with a straw through the gigantic hole at the bottom of her mouth.
We get our groceries delivered. Yes, I know that sounds decadent, but it costs less than ten dollars and they carry everything into our kitchen. Okay, that is decadent. Who am I kidding. But look, included in the price of delivery is the Best Toy Ever. Peek-a-boo.
Re above: our living-room, Sunday morning, post-breakfast, while Albus and parents plan for his upcoming birthday party in the kitchen. Musical track in the background: Christmas music. (Nooooooo!!!!). Of course, this scene has since dissolved, is dissolving as I type, with the addition of Albus as Santa Claus. Apple-Apple is sitting on Albus, Fooey has just come to report rather urgently.