Yesterday we celebrated the nativity of the younger male child, who happily turned the ripe age of 10, while simultaneously going on 65. The benefactor took both younger children to her place of work for the day, where they engaged in their favorite activity: ‘how much can we stress the benefactor before she breaks?’ Fortunately for the youth, the question was never answered, although the answer was much closer than they realized. For instance, the benefactor left the office for two minutes to gather something, and upon her return found the children had decorated a cup entirely with push pins. Their quickness and efficiency rivaled the fastest gunslinger on his best day.
Unbeknownst to the benefactor, the children smuggled celebratory pieces of chocolate dessert with their lunches, and hungrily munched on them throughout the day, elevating their sugar levels to new highs previously unrecorded. This resulted in a terrible late-afternoon crash for the younger progeny, although it brought a blissful sixty minutes of successive silence for the benefactor, whose nerves were circling the point of fracture. Finally, after leaving said employment, the children nestled in at home, watching the media box in their bed clothes at 5:00 o’clock in the early evening, simply because they ‘can’. As they immersed themselves in tales of a British alien time traveling through space, the benefactor prepared the youngest male’s dinner request, and they celebrated with a light feast and the opening of gaily wrapped tokens. The evening was finally complete when the youngest female was found to be decorating the inside of her handbag with metallic, adhesive pictures, and they were sent to prepare for slumber. After the full evening tuck in ritual was realized, the benefactor bid them adieu and sweet dreams until morning strikes again.
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AuthorWelcome to the jungle of my life as a 40-something single mother of four. Archives
May 2018
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