The children are yawning, rubbing their little eyes and insisting they aren’t tired. The sun has embarked on its daily journey to the other side of the world where thousands of parents are bracing themselves for the new morning and the inevitable onslaught of questions, complaints, and necessary adjudications. The end of my day is near. I can smell it.
Of course, that could be the failure of my Rexona – highly likely – but my deodorant is not the only thing that is struggling under the pressure.
Amidst the chaos of it all, the thing that I find the most taxing is the talking. And the listening. Is God teaching me a lesson about how my husband feels when I download? Okay, I get it……
At any given moment I have up to four people speaking at me. They are either trying to a) tell, b) ask, c) complain, d) whinge, e) complain, f) complain g) complain h) tell me they don’t like what I’ve cooked for dinner…….
For a woman with a kazllion-billion word usage limit each day, I’ve used them all by 7pm and just can’t bring myself to do more than grunt as the cover-all response.
Which makes reading bed times stories an insult to an already tired brain.
Which brings me to my point. What was Dr Seuss thinking? Come on, man. Fifty-six pages of rhyme using made-up words? That’s just mean.
Spot Stays Overnight I can handle, but Thidwick the Soft Hearted Moose? I think I need to sit down.
No comments:
Post a Comment