This week is decidedly less lovely than last week. This week there are deadlines and taxes and car inspections and hot, humid weather and, accordingly, deeply flawed parenting.
I guess not every day can be like the days of last week, filled with sunshine and moonbeams and excellent produce. But, still. It would be nice.
Some nice things have seeped over into this week, making it not completely awful. I’d say it’s only about 75% crappy.
Last night, for instance, after having put the boys to bed, I was working at my computer and Eight called to me from his room at the top of the stairs. “Would you come turn my light off, please?” he asked.
Heartless, lazy mother that I am, I said, “But we agreed that you would turn it off when you had finished reading.”
I heard the light click off. Then a small, sad voice called down from the dark of his room: “I wish you would rub my back.”
Punctuated by a sigh.
Even my heartlessness and laziness have their limits. I climbed the stairs again to rub his back.
In the morning, I tried his tactic: “I wish you would stop hitting your brother.”
It didn’t work.