|But I already ATE all the sugar.|
Our household reached that point roughly two and a half days ago. That said, there is nothing particularly wrong with today.
I find myself possessing less than no desire to wipe or scrub or fold or sort or sanitize anything whatsoever.
In fact, it would be terrific if today could be declared A Day Where People Don't Hafta Touch Anything Unless They Wanna.
Let's go one step further. Let's add an addendum for this Day where, because we clearly don't give a fig for organic- or even hot- food on a Day like today, we get to eat cereal straight out of the box. Maybe we'll even make cookie dough that will never even see the inside of an oven because, on this Day, our apathy makes us stronger than salmonella.
On this Day, I want to remember how wonderful it feels to pull a heavy down comforter up to the side of my face as I snuggle in for a midday nap. I want to remember it AS I AM DOING IT. The kids can come, too. As long as they know that we are there to sleep. Not talk. Not play with figurines. Not chew on my shoulder.
Today, my word count is at 45,909. I would like- for this Day only- to have the word count remain at 45,909 and for everyone currently in the house to be totally cool with this. Guilt-free. Proud, even. This will be the thought in my mind as we all settle in for the blanket-on-the-face nap.
This is also the Day where I am not The Queen Of No. So when Nora, clutching an armload of winter gear and chasing Ender, informs me that "kittens need mittens and cats need hats," I'll nod appropriately and see how that storyline unfolds. And if- just as a suggestion- I tell her that the cat might snap at her from underneath his fleece earflaps, I will take her gleeful hope that it'll turn into a choreographed number from West Side Story as a truly valid one.
Today could be the day where I find out just why, exactly, those Birds are so Angry.
It will definitely be a Day where my kids could tell you- in great detail- How To Get To Sesame Street.
And as soon as I extract my toddler from beneath the couch and remove the glittery stickers from her eyelids, I'll tell her so.