My forearm is riddled with little red slashes.
A sign that I should be under surveillance in the padded room of my choice?
(Although, if the padded room was equipped with air conditioning set to "artic", I might consider it.)
No, these marks I bear are from my seatbelt. I miss the hole every time and when hot metal bumps up against your skin, and you hear a sizzle...well, it's bound to leave a mark. Who knew that taking Audrey to her swimming lesson would be such a challenge?
As I breathed in the superheated air of my van, I could feel my lungs crinkle in protest. So I felt kind of bad urging Audrey into her seat while at the same time, I have to chuckle at her ingenious way of buckling her seatbelt. She has taken an old knit hat, part of her winter hat-and-mittens set, and uses it to hold her seatbelt as she guides it in.
It's a sad day when your six-year-old outsmarts you.
Unfortunately, this happens a lot.
The boys are visiting with their uncle, three hours away, and it's down to me, the princess, and Mr W. I'm trying to focus on the boys having a good time, making memories with their cousins and family; and not that they are taking classes instructed by Professor Tio E, in "Porn 101: How the Internet and Cable TV Are Your Friends"; "When to Tip a Stripper"; and "The Physics of Quarters", accompanied by the seminar "Alcohol: Lowering Inhibitions or Broadening Horizons?"
I exaggerate, of course. My brother is a good guy and he enjoys my childrens' company. Besides, as he put it--"I'm not going to corrupt your kids." It's just that he is way more fun than I am, I know it. Less filter. Less "no, that's inappropriate." They will have enjoy their time there, no doubt.
I am, admittedly, a little overcome by the emptiness of the house. Not the quiet. Audrey takes care of that, no problem. And it is nice to not have to be feeding people all daylong.
However, even though I assured them that I rented their rooms out while they are gone, I miss them.
Maybe I need my own seminar.
"Yes, I'll Have a Margarita."