I am in the recliner, feet up. Pete should be in bed. He is not. He is trying to pull off my blanket so he can dislodge Marsha, who is hiding from the Toddler Menace.*
“No Marsha! That is not for you! That is not your blanket,” he says. “I’m gonna get you!”
Instead of getting up and taking him back to bed, I am typing this. It’s been a long day. He yanks a bit harder on my blanket.
“Marsha!” he says again. “That is not your habitat!”
*Is he still a toddler? Wikipedia says yes. For a bit longer.
“This is the start of a difficult day.” Poppy has told me that at least four times this morning. She’s only been up for four hours. There’s some truth in what she says, though. Last night my throat started to hurt. And this morning I woke up with a full-blown cold, complete with a vocal range that moves from Very Croaky to Entirely Nonexistent. I don’t know that her day’s been all that difficult, though. The kids get to watch far too much TV when I’m sick.
On the bright side, at least now I kind of have an excuse for not going out into the broiling hotness that’s been our weather lately. Anyway, it’s a good that I’d already planned The Laziest Menu Plan Ever for this week. Here ’tis:
Dear Lady at the Gym,
I know it’s an uncomfortable feeling, going to the gym when you’re overweight. The only thing that might make it more uncomfortable is going to the gym in a swimsuit. I know this because I’m overweight, and I was going to the pool to swim laps in my brand-new swimsuit, which does not have any sort of ruffle or skirt or anything to hide the fact that I’m shaped like an Oompa-Loompa a manatee.* And there you were, walking laps and wearing a dress. What I’m saying here is this: I understand that you might have felt insecure about being in the pool. However. Wearing a dress in the pool is definitely not the way to avoid drawing attention to oneself.
Sincerely,
Nichole
Dear Dress Lady’s Son,
Stop flopping yourself through the swim lanes, and please for the love of Peter Tork stop the falsetto hymn singing. I know it’s echoey in the pool area, and I suppose you might feel a certain thrill at hearing your ululation bounce around the room. But you’re reaching an Errol Morris level of creepitude.
Sincerely,
Nichole
*A Google Image search tells me that Oompa-Loompas are not as rotund as their name might suggest.