I had very high hopes for today. I was going to conquer schoolwork, dominate transcript transferrals. Snap my fingers sans Mary Poppins style and warble a song, while watching my cringe-worthy room rearrange itself neatly. Perhaps even have a bit of time left over for Tolkien and his “Silmarillion”.
Notice the use of “had”. I’m not quite sure what the problem was, whether it was getting up at 8:30 (knew I shouldn’t have partied so hard with the Monopoly peeps), declaring my body needed exercise as well as my mind and getting my tush kicked by Jillian Michaels and her ninja sidekicks, or just daydreaming…
But here we are. The day half gone. And the little I have accomplished was interrupted – a lot.
We have this thing in our house called the “Interrupter”. She’s a master, this cunning child, with impeccable timing that stops you, mid-stride.
Jillian Michaels, affectionately known as the Drill Sergeant in my mind, was barking orders, something about flipping over backwards, while shadowboxing. I was staring blankly at the screen, when an imperious voice broke my reverie.
“Ason, me needs baids in my hair.”
Gratefully, I sit down and perform the requested service. Em trots away, well-pleased, looking very much like a small Pippi Longstocking.
Two minutes later, while I am attempting a new technique, doing a push-up while standing on my head, I hear a voice again.
“Ason, you wants to pay paydough wif me?”
Upside down, I moan my regrets and signal that she should leave me to my misery. Unfortunately, she is abysmal at reading body language. She giggles and plops a wad of playdough on my neck, cackling even harder when I crash down, and completely losing it when I end up with playdough smashed against my nose.
Oblivious, Jillian and the ninjas keep leaping into the air, staying aloft for many minutes, then floating downwards. I, however, am quite grounded. And intend to remain so.
I stumble off to the kitchen with one intent – get lunch. Em has other ideas. She demands bape juice and yogurt, along with a side of cheez-its. She eats.
I sneak away. Tucked away in bed, I stare hopefully at my schoolbooks. For the rest of you curious people, knowledge does not float nicely into your empty brain. I tried.
Bemoaning the fact that I had completely wasted half a day, I look mournfully to the ground – and notice a small red head peering up.
“Heeeyyy,” says the head.
“What is you doing?” the head questions further.
“Nussing,” I say.
The head bobs energetically. “Dood. Den you can sit wif me, and I can do da ipad.”
The head smiles. “And you tan get me a snack.”
At least the day won’t be a waste.
- Got my tail kicked
- Braided hair
- Got my tail kicked
- Played an unorthodox game of playdough
- Became a slave
Who needs school anyway? I know slaves don’t. 😉