I awoke this morning with not only the slightly increases level of fatigue I endured yesterday, but also with a sore throat.
Oh, and the face slapping news that the two big kids had the day off school due to a Teacher’s Strike. The Littlest One was home with me all day, already.
I never know what to plan for the days he’s home; some days he needs my undivided attention and other’s, he’s quite happy in his total obliviousness of my existence. Or, he is until he needs a peanut butter sandwich.
Today was a good one, and he and his brothers played almost beautifully together; mostly when Monkey Boy could be Dictator and do dictatory type things throughout their game playing.
And I got some work done, much work done. Until around lunchtime when the throat kicked up a notch and panadol wasn’t touching the sides. This called for ice-cream.
The unfortunate thing was that Grumpy Pants had done the last We’re Out Of Ice-Cream shop, which means he purchased the ice cream. It was Napolitana. I hate Napolitana ice-cream. Things deteriorated, I noticed.
It had been on special, so he brought more. This meant the ice-cream bowls for my ice-cream maker (well, the kids’ ice-cream maker,