There's no sweeter words for the daycare hag's ears than:
"I don't know how you do it."
We bare our teeth in shameless grins.
We have been validated, recognized, honoured.
What we don't tell just anybody that there are plenty of jobs that we are incapable of navigating. Or maybe that we are just too afraid of leaving our houses. Of relying on cars during bone-crushing temperatures.
We also don't tell you all our coping secrets. Oh.
Sure- to the naked eye, we are busily preparing grilled cheese for our hungry little flock.
Handy how the fridge is sidled up so close to the range like that....
This is beyond unfair.
Still too early to launch into fridayatfivefifteen; I suppose?
Will have to settle for licks at the lid to get me through....
Back to the kids, and some pointers on how to do it.
Must contain ketchup.
And whenever possible; cheese.
If you run out of ketchup, jam comes in at a very close second.
And I mean for everything.
Ketchup. Or jam.
You must laugh at your own jokes.
All of them.
Dry humour works well- keeps them a little confused, a bit on the edge- gives you the advantage.
That's all I can think of right now to enlighten you with. I'm suffering from a massive nutrient deficiency because of the whole ice cream fiasco.
Must try cheese.