Yesterday was one of those great parenting days when the planets seemed to be in perfect alignment and each child resembles the portrayal of cherubic youth found only on the pages of glossy magazines. There was no arguing over who gets to sit directly in front of the Little People House (yes, E. can argue in her own almost 11 month old way. And yes, I thought I solved this issue by purchasing another Little People house for mere pennies at a consignment sale....I did not.) Hugs were issued without abandon. We restored our good name at the library after last week's unfortunate incident. Everyone napped. Isaac was full of cute things to say such as calling a cat "the-kitty-the-cat" and coming up to Evelyn and me at the park saying, "Hey, what's the problem?" Supper was eaten by everyone and Isaac seemed to finally comprehend the mini-lesson of how one is not supposed to state how they do not like something on their plate....they must simply take a bite and move on. Evelyn displayed a slight interest in the table food we were eating, which is a first because I fear the girl will be carting stage one baby food in her lunchbox to kindergarten one day.
Ah, the bliss of parenthood.
Things came to a bit of a halt when I mistook a glass of meat marinade for the glass of fruit punch I had been sipping while cooking dinner. I will let you figure out what happened there. I resisted Googling " Getting E. Coli from marinade" last night and assured myself I did not consume enough of the liquid to do any damage to my internal organs.
About ten minutes after Isaac crawled into bed for the evening, he made the discovery that his precious Raffes was not in his bed with him. We then remembered Raffes was in the car....the car which Tobe had just left in to run a few errands. The amount of tears was equivalent to those that might be produced should I have shipped Raffes off to Yemen. During the consoling process, I somehow got whacked in the face with a rather large book on accident. Not fun.
Once Raffs was returned safely home after his trek to our neighboring suburb, things began to quiet down and I plopped down on the couch with the husband. An hour later we both woke up...still in the same positions on the couch...to discover we are indeed old and should just move our bedtimes to 9pm.
3 comments:
I, too, love and cherish those days when it all just seems "to work!" Glad you had a good day. My bedtime is 9 o'clock and I am proud of it :)
Your stories crack me up! I understand the anxiety over the shopping cart. Patrick would always stay in for about two minutes and then decide to get out and walk and I would be stuck with it. E. is precious in her tutu!
What a fun day, minus the meat marinade. Here's hoping for many more this week! :)
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