Tuesday. Do you get that? Do you love saying that OUT LOUD because by the rules of all the other weeks that contain that word, we should be at work right now? We should have been woken by the alarm clock, instead of by the natural rhythms of our own bodies. We should have stumbled down the stairs mumbling quick, unintelligable prayers for mercy. We would have packed lunches, felt stabs of guilt at unfinished homework, and grimaced at the mess left on the table from the night before. And all that without the time to enjoy two whole pots of good, rich Tim Hortons coffee.
Monday. Was just as good. Because I am a good mother, I filled the day with traditional "good mother"ly things. I cooked nothing at all. Everyone sustained themselves remarkably well on Pot of Gold, triple power pushpops, ring pops, double bubbles, and reindeer poop. There were traces of canned vegetable soup and some toast crumbs in the kitchen. (I noticed that as I furtively made myself a salad and snuck to the basement to read my book in peace. ) So, it appears that I have raised them extremely well.
And now if you'll excuse me, I smell coffee and biscotti, and I think there may be some candy bowls to refill.