Crazy day, not sleeping baby, discover Godzilla’s shoes are well beyond “worn out” and actually have holes in them, and he has basketball immediately after school.
Coordinate a school pickup for Grumpy on his way home from work, meet at local toy shop / shoe shop and purchase first pair of runners I grab from shelf. Notice Monkey Boy’s shoes also have holes in bottom, beginning to feel somewhat inadequate in my role of Mother and wonder if I shouldn’t just pass it on to someone responsible, then go shoe shopping for myself.
That sounds like a much nicer idea.
And I’m really thinking that it hasn’t been long enough between shoe purchasing for them, and far too long for me.
Home, dinner, negotiation re bathtime along line of “when we get home from guitar” and “NO YOU WILL HAVE ONE NOW!”, baths and then off to guitar lessons.
Home and … there is something in Godzilla’s hair. It appears to be crawling. I like to think its the ants that have invaded our house in search of hydrating fluid. I pick one off.
Have mild tantrum.
Am fairly convinced that, given this one was the size of a small African elephant and I’ve only just treated their hair againi,