Slowly Killing Myself
Berta has now been gone on a work trip for two days, leaving me with the kids.
It’s not as horrible as I could make it out to be. I could, for instance, mention that Abby handed Riley one of the soft sugar cookies (those things will be what truly killed me in the end), and he proceeded to rub the icing into the brand new couch. Or the NFL-style tackle “hugging” of the 1-year-old by his older sister, bouncing his poor noggin off the living room floor. Or the screaming fits that ensue whenever I try to use the bathroom. (Yes, please consider how awful it would be if every time you went to pee, someone stood outside the door and wouldn’t stop screaming, and then when you came out, acted as if nothing odd occurred.)
Contrary to all that, there are a whole lot more fun things we’ve done that Berta’s been away than there have been things to complain about. Abby and I have been building a volcano (I hope to have photos of the completed work online when it’s done), and talking about how to add money. Tomorrow, we’re planning on learning how to play Blackjack while the last bit of paint dries on the Volcano.
Riley has his own little quirks. He’s been getting up in the morning and insisting on watching TV while wrapped up in two of his knit blankies. Not one. Two. Fortunately, he doesn’t want to watch TV all day. He’s kind of self-regulating. When he’s done, he climbs down and starts grabbing toys to play with. In the evening, he’s not that interested in TV at all.
But no, that’s not what’s killing me.