On the afternoon of the day called Christmas eve … downtime on the couch watching: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and Mary Poppins. Kev and I are recovering to the point of functionality following a brief but unhappy and ill-timed bout of the stomach flu, the misery also shared by several of our children. Yesterday was a yuck day all around, and included some swearing (both Kevin and I, on entirely separate occasions, used a particular word we’d taken care never to expose the children to before … which Albus today looked up in the dictionary. Sheesh). Around twilight, I became overcome with self-pity, which sits well on no one, especially on grown adults, I find. Yuck, yuck, yuck. But it all seemed a bit too unfair: to have finished writing the exam, all systems go for delicious holiday cooking and baking and sharing with family … and then woken at dawn to the sound of …
Well, perhaps we have this out of our systems. And though my appetite hasn’t returned, I nevertheless had the energy, today, to start a double batch of sweet rolls for tomorrow’s breakfast.
