I took this picture today, because William asked me to. "Take a picture Mommy," he said. I had to run to the car to get my camera. Surprisingly, when I got back they were both still standing in the same place, posing.
In the picture, William is holding one of the cookies we just made together. He is without a shirt because, while we were making cookies, he poured an entire bottle of vanilla on himself. I handed him the vanilla when I was getting ingredients out, thinking it was a fairly safe ingredient for him to carry to the table (plastic bottle, cap won't come off if dropped). As I was reaching for the sugar, I heard William's little voice say "Mommy, I got vanilla on my shirt." Indeed, it was not only on his shirt, but all over the table, on the chair, and on the floor. The only place that was completely free of vanilla, was inside the vanilla bottle.
Did I mention that I was already exhausted by this point? My daughter is allegedly getting a new tooth, and got me to share in her misery by keeping me up all night. Jadzia was playing the scream-until-Mommy-holds-me game at 1, 1:30, 2, 2:30, 5, 5:30, and 6. I think it was teething because when I gave her Advil, she went longer before screaming again (just long enough for the meds to wear off), but she could just as easily have been messing with me.
My husband was kind enough to let me sleep in all the way to 9:30! Still, I was looking forward to a nap (for William, of course, not me). We didn't go out in the morning, partly because of my late start, partly because I was feeling lazy, so I guess it's not surprising that he refused to go to sleep. I fed him lunch, I read him stories, I tucked him in, I hugged and kissed him and his stuffies. He just kept getting up, screaming when I put him back in his room. Finally I gave up and said "Let's make cookies!"
A little while after the picture was taken, I decided that I needed to get out of the house. I remembered that there was an Early Years Centre drop-in on Monday evenings that I never go to (because it's on Monday evenings). It was just before 5, and Adam had messaged me to say he wouldn't be leaving work until 6. Far too long to be cooped up in the house any longer.
On the way I was stuck behind an extremely slow truck, carrying a mini-backho (or maybe a bulldozer). Then, as I got to the intersection just left of where I needed to be there was an accident by the side of the road. No decapitations or anything, just a fender bender, and a cop talking to the drivers. No rubber-necking needed, people. I couldn't weasel my way around them either, because there was a cop there. I tried going around the block using a side street, but it turned out to be one of those curvy roads that takes you right back where you started from. I tried taking a short-cut through the McDonald's parking lot but the lots didn't connect.
The lot was littered with signs that said "McDonald's customer parking only." Still, only meters from my destination, I decided I would park there. I pulled into a spot, turned off the engine, opened the door to let my son out, and found that both my children were asleep. Just as well, thought I, with the way the day was going I'm sure Ronald McDonald would tow my car if I parked there.
I looked at my watch to see if it was worth going anymore. My watch said that it was 1 am, on January 1st. "Liar!" I thought and threw it on the floor of the car.
I was going to go home, I was on my way, but instead at the last minute, I went around the block (when I say "block" I mean the block that is half of Burlington) and went to the Early Years after all. I woke the kids up, but they didn't mind (and if they did who cares). I had fun. And my husband made spaghetti when he got home. So it wasn't so bad a day.
