Mark took off for a gig today and Lily spent a fair portion of the day taking about how Daddy was in an airplane and we’d see him again later. I think she’s under the impression that he’ll be spending the better part of the week in the air doing the elusive “work” we’re always talking about. If anyone or anything is out of her sight, they’re “working.”
Anyway, we went to story time at the library but ended up spending the whole session in the parking lot while the girls slept. Don’t bother me none; ever since I started to listen to audio books I LONG for the opportunity to get stuck in the car. Traffic jam? Right on. Both girls sleeping? ROCK ON! It’s all good, yo. When they both woke we went to Ikea for lunch where I did not scarf down everything on my plate and got a job offer for my impromptu story time. I had all the kids in the café circled around me while I read animatedly from the scattered books they had in the play corner and even had a chorus of ROARS coming out of them at the appropriate time.
I’m the cool mom, yo.
You’re all exhausted just listening to my day, aren’t you?
So yeah, it was all going good until bedtime rolled around. Lily freaked, big time. First she didn’t want to sleep in her bed, she wanted to sleep in mine. Fine. Oh, not fine? I have to be in there with you? But it’s 8pm and I have “things” to do (read: TV to watch and internet to surf). OK, back in your own bed. Still freaking out? Here’s the dog, she’ll sleep with you. The dog moral offends your sensibilities? Fine, out the dog goes. The world is ending? This is where I lost the parenting award. I told her to “Stop it! Go to bed!” and I walked away, shut the door and ignored her. At least she finally went to sleep. Now if only Anya would stop fussing…