Ugh. I’m sick today. I spent a good part of last night violently expelling all matter from my digestive system and now I’m lying, white and wan, on the family room couch.
Harry is happily watching Play School, the first of many TV shows he w ill be treated to today. Annie is protesting my decision to put her down for a nap. I advised her to put her grievances down in writing and leave them on my desk. I would take them into consideration in due course.
Matilda and Christopher Robin are at school now, after a truly horrific school run. Mr Knightley was a hero, putting together their lunches (practical, manly lunches) and packing Christopher Robin’s swimming bag (it would be the first day of swimming lessons today!)
But this didn’t stop Matilda’s inability to find her shoes, Christopher Robin’s inability to sit still and eat his breakfast, Harry’s refusal to wear clothing or Annie’s refusal to treat her Vegemite toast as anything other than a moisturising loofah scrub.
Here, I would love to write that I took a deep breath and gently admonished my children, ushering them to the car with a minimum of fuss.
But that isn’t what happened.
Dragon Lady had already fully materialised when, en route to school, I discovered that Matilda had left her practical, manly lunch on the kitchen bench.
Rather than heaving a little sigh and establishing a habit chart with coloured stars to help Matilda develop her organisational skills, I decided instead to launch into a loud and incoherent rant so savage that Matilda got all teary, as I simultaneously executed a wobbly three-point-turn and sped back home.
I had to drop them off at the school office, they were that late…
But that’s all over now. Stretching out on the couch, I’m studiously ignoring the breakfast dishes and focusing on nothing more strenuous than texting Jan about the latest plot developments in Downton Abbey and marveling at how half the children in the village have hair in precisely the same shade of ginger as Postman Pat and yet nobody else sees this as suspicious.
Oh, and I’m writing this post, of course. A long, rambling, completely indulgent post with no real point to it. I’m writing it out in longhand with Matilda’s fancy new gel pens. They cheer me up and I figure she owes me.
When did Thomas the Tank Engine get to be so LAME? They need to hire some better writers. The good Reverend W would NOT be impressed.
So think of me, carefully nibbling rice crackers and sipping mineral water (and then eating chocolate because I figure if it does come back up. I’d want it to taste interesting). Much as I hate being sick, I’m kind of enjoying having a leave-pass to do nothing (even if it does mean having to suffer through such baffling programming as The Ha Ha Hairies)
Damn! Annie just woke up!