Close to losing my freakin’ mind yesterday, holding on tight in order not to lose my shit, keeping my voice level, trying to make up for a whole day of work after having a sick Bebe at home. The full-time primary caretaker and full-time worker double gig takes its toll some days. Things have been especially busy lately between doctors appointments, overflowing workload, visiting family.
We’re sitting in the messy kitchen – the kids and I. They are surrounding me, Bebe hanging on to my left, Koala perched on the table to my right, while I type furiously on the laptop. Koala is shooting questions at me which I’m answering on autopilot.
Standard fare, like “Why do rockets have fire?” “Why do you need to work?” “Why do we need tables?”
Then I get this:
“Why we don’t eat snakes?”
“Some people do.”
“Why don’t *we*?”
“Because we don’t eat things that crawl.”
“Like babies?”
I turn to face him, throw my head back, and laugh and laugh and laugh. Until the tears of frustration convert themselves, fill up in my eyes. My children are staring.
Sometimes a kid just knows what to say.
Whadya got: