I'm now officially convinced that the coach who invented zone defense was either incredibly slow, incredibly lazy, or a father. Taking care of these two kids (3 if you include Samson) by myself is crazy. Best case scenario is that they play together. Worst case, Lil C goes outside to play with Samson, and all the concrete, wood, metal, plastic he can bump into; and Miss S decides she wants to play in the kitchen with sharp objects. I end up having to take away the sharp objects, pull her outside, and play prevent D. It's like instead of playing the strong safety trying to keep everything in front of me, I'm playing free safety roaming from potential accident to potential accident. Good times...
Warm and fuzzy thought: Lil C grabs a book, hops up onto his bed, looks at me, and pats the bed next to him saying "c'mon, sit next to me."
Not sure how to take this thought: Miss S (after a rough day where I found myself saying versions of "No" constantly) asked if she could go home tomorrow. Either she doesn't like discipline, she really misses her mom, or she wants to see what kind of reaction she's going to get out of us. Or some combination of all 3.
We found a babysitter so please pray that we will be able to relax and enjoy ourselves for a few precious hours on Saturday. Thanks for reading, praying, and caring.
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