It starts with 2 teaspoons of generic Compare-to-Benadryl children’s formula diphenhydramine.
No.
It starts with the itchy, burning eyes. And an entire travel package of Kleenex. Then 2 teaspoons of generic Compare-to-Benadryl children’s formula diphenhydramine.
And then you make your way to bed. You do not toss, you do not turn, you do not dream. You do not open your eyes when the blaaat-blaaat-blaaat of your alarm finally breaks through your diphenhydramine coma-lite. You move toward the sound, and you make it stop.
And then you make your way to bed. Your children come in, and they curl up close to you. They are warm, solid, quiet. You do not open your eyes. Your children are hungry. You ask them to wait until the clock says 8 o’clock. You do not open your eyes.
The clock says 8 o’clock. You send your children off to brush their teeth. They do. It is a miracle. You open your eyes. You ask your daughter to start her breakfast. To help her brother with his. She is 5. They each eat a cup of yogurt every morning. She can do this.
You take a shower. You get dressed. The diphenhydramine haze is lifting. Your eyes are open. You go downstairs.
Your eyes are open, and your children are sitting together in the kitchen floor. It is peaceful. They are cheerful. They are separating the newly opened frosted oats from the magically delicious marshmallows. Without a bowl.
In the kitchen floor.
On the kitchen floor.
Your 5-year-old is helping your 3-year-old eat his breakfast. It is magically delicious, and it is on the floor, and they are peaceful and cheerful, and your eyes are open.
Things could be worse.
