4/21/22 Journal: Best Part of the Day!

Evi’s and my favorite time of day is probably near the end, when we’re throwing on PJs and climbing into bed to play on our phones, read books, or simply talk.* After a long period of working, cleaning, chasing kids, and whatever else it takes to run a family, bedtime is usually the first time we can decompress.

*Listed in declining order of probability. Feel free to guess the option that was left out due to its microscopic likelihood.

So, you can imagine our excitement when, almost immediately after getting our pillows and blankets just right, we heard Sasha crying, loudly.

“Ah dammit,” I said. “What now?”

Usually in situations like this, Evi and I have some kind of unspoken negotiation over whose turn it is to get up, but this time she quickly jumped. I think her maternal instinct kicked in; she knew something was wrong. It turned out that Sasha had some kind of ear ache and headache. And, Sasha being Sasha, she was having those things loudly. So much so that, even with Evi cuddling her, she woke Norah up, who then also started crying.

Which meant Daddy needed to get involved. Dammit.

I cuddled with Norah in her little bed until she seemingly was back asleep. I then–like a fool–thought I could go back to bed. But before I could even reach our room, Norah was on her knees on the living room rug, crying and begging for “milky”. Sippy cups are impossible to maintain for our family; they are constantly disappearing. When we finally sell this house, the new owners will one day find a stash of 743 sippy cups in some godforsaken place we’d never think to look. So of course there was no sippy cup in our cabinet to pour milk in.

But Norah was insisting, so I poured a small amount of milk into a regular glass, and handed it to her. Instead of drinking, she started walking back to her room.

“Wait, no, what are you doing? Drink it now!” I said as I followed her. I reached for the milk and she pulled away and kept walking. I could see where this was going, and it wasn’t going to be good.

“Norah, no! Don’t bring that in your room! You’ll spill it!” I tried walking behind her and grabbing it without yanking it from her, as that would certainly create a mess.

She ignored me, ran into her room, climbed in her bed, and promptly spilled the milked all over her face, neck and chest. First, she started screaming because she had milk all over her. Secondly, of course, Evi started yelling at me because I was stupid enough to give her a glass of milk and let her walk away. Thirdly, Sasha, who Evi had just convinced to quiet down and relax, started crying all over again.

So yeah, that was the best part of my day.

I’m really enjoying this coffee right now.

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