Confessions of a harried, sleepy mommy

I'm feeling a bit ornery and irreverent tonight. It's been an interesting 24 hours for me, the details of which I'll spare you. Because, trust me, it's NOT interesting.

We started our day by going to story-time at the library. Ewan loves it, although he does get a little overwhelmed at times by the very loud zeal with which the librarian, a man, reads the stories. He particularly is intimidated by the stuffed iguana puppet that Mr. Bob takes around the room to nibble on the fingers of the wee ones. Today we were running late, and I got myself a bit frazzled trying to get the kids out the door on time. So when we had stepped three steps into the children's section in the library and Ewan refused to go one step more, I was more than a little perturbed. I tried gentle, loving persuasion at first, but when that didn't work, I resorted to idle threats. "Ewan," I said, oh so calmly through my teeth, "if you decide to go home right now, and this was a wasted trip, I will never, ever again bring you to story-time. No matter how much you ask me or beg me, we won't ever come again." To which he grabbed my hand, walked to the staging area, and a grand time was had by all. Especially the very loud Mr. Bob.

Afterward, because Fynn's hair grows at warp speed and is so thick that I've been considering auditioning him for a Pantene commercial, I took him for a hair cut. The lady who cut his hair was seriously one of the nicest people I have ever met. So we had a nice chat while she cut his hair and I casually debated internally over her sexual orientation.

Then we went to McDonald's. (Yes, Bryce, we did. We really did.) And on to Sarah's for some spur-of-the-moment chatting. When we came home, I was so pooped (sleep deprivation due to this awful bug I can't quite shake...) I went into a vegetative state on the couch. I was excited when Fynn discovered the box of leftover chicken nuggets in my purse because it meant he would be occupied. For the rest of the night, I've found random pieces of chicken nuggets around the house, including one fully intact that came spilling out of my purse while I was digging for change. (For what else but a Coke?) Add to the nuggets the chunk of waffle Fynn carried around for an hour after my lazy breakfast-for-dinner, and the dog had quite a feast to Hoover up when I let her in.

Just felt like sharing.