We woke up this morning, and the first thing we did was check the news on the typhoon, number 15 or 16 or 1827, something like that. If there is a strong wind warning, then school is cancelled, but if there is a, how do I translate this? huge rain warning only, school goes on as usual, accept for the ten minutes it takes to get out the rainwear and convince the school child that no, it is not dorky and I don’t care how wet the neighbors let their wet kids get! Sent Bubba to school, against his wishes as usual.
My neighbor, who has a son in the same class of each of my children, called to see if we wanted to come over. Great! We’ll be there in a few.
Almost an hour and three outfits later, Me Too is still nowhere near ready to go. We have them come over here instead, the house being relatively clean thanks to the guests who came yesterday and did a ginormous clean-up before they left. (Love that♪(´ε｀ ))
About ten minutes later the text I’ve been dreading arrives. We have to go to the primary school and pick up the kiddies at 12:15. Every mom is thinking the same thing, “Will they have eaten lunch or NOT?”
My neck still hurts; I can’t bend my head forward for any period of time so cooking ain’t gonna happen. That being said, I have enough in the ice box only for the little one and me. The bigger one eats as much as the two of us combined (on a good day.) Time to call in the reinforcements.
No scrap-booking today, Baba to the rescue.
I drop off the littlie, and forage through the driving rain and the wind-the wind!- to pick up the biggie from school. Immediately I notice his face, and shirt, and back of his shorts (?) are covered in tomato sauce. I reckon they’ve either fed the children or had them construct a tomato bomb for science class. Wait, scratch that, they don’t have proper science class in first grade. Lunch it is, then.
The wind-the wind!- is strong enough to have rendered our umbrellas as useless as toothpicks, so we fold them up and fjord our way back. A sudden angry Burberry-hating gust of wind comes along, briefly inflates my ridiculously overpriced umbrella, then breaks every spoke in the thing.
Eh, well, I was never too sure I’m a Burberry umbrella kind of girl(it was a gift you see.) One less thing to worry about- cool.
I let Baba feed us girls anyway. Gracious of me, no? (Joking, y’all.)
The Mistress of Mischief has been up to her tricks all afternoon. Cereal all over the floor has been covered up by tissues all over the floor which have been used to clean up milk spilled all over the floor. For some reason there is a broken tent amongst the Sylvanian families stuff, which you may have guessed, is all over the floor.
Um, hello customer service? You know that “Clean Up Thingamajigger” the Cat in the Hat has? I’ll take one please. Do yall accept Amex? Exelente.