Last week was the last week of school. Jake was in England. I was still recovering from the month of April, which I'll write about sometime soon. I was pooped.
Saturday night, it was 7:30 and Claire reminded me we hadn't eaten dinner yet. I cooked some penne pasta and felt like a champ for getting some vegetables on the table. But then, as I was taking the noodles to the table, the pan slipped and the noodles went all over the floor. I just stood there staring. Maybe the kids sensed I was nearing nuclear melt-down. Maybe Claire couldn't violate the "Dinner has to be eaten before 8:00" rule. I don't know. But those kids said, "It's okay, Mom," and ATE OFF THE FLOOR. As luck would have it, and before you start dry-heaving, be informed I had wiped up the floor in that spot earlier in the day. Not that that prevented comments like, "I can't eat this one--there's something gross on it."
1 comment:
Oh Charlotte, you paint such vivid pictures of life. I laughed and laughed at this, which probably shows my character flaws. I hope things have calmed down, and that you have recovered from the month of April...
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