Did yesterday last 141 years? Maybe it was just me. I am sure I’ve complained lately about not having enough time, but I didn’t mean I wanted more time single-parenting on a cold, gloomy, occasionally-snowing Sunday in November. I wasn’t asking for more housecleaning, more refereeing of rounds of girl-on-girl-wrestling, more moody brooding.
More scraping cheerios off the wall, as my mother used to say.
It was enough to make a girl want to start drinking vodka straight out of the bottle at 3 p.m. Which had been 4 p.m. only the day before. And which I didn’t do, by the way. Bad Mommy is trying to get a grip.
The day did finally end, only to begin again at 4:37 a.m., when the most beautiful saucy vixen of a four-year-old Chicken Little awoke, demanding entertainment.
“Mommy! When will it be morning?”
Whenever you declare it so, my little angel-devil-pie.
I groped blearily for the first thing at hand and thrust it at her.
Soon, I will likely regret introducing her to the charms of my brand-new $500 Ipad. But she did create some lovely images, didn’t she?
My favorite is the two-headed monster.
