Last time I wrote, I was bemoaning my lack of creativity. And very much the not lack of a deadline. So I buckled down at decided that there was nothing that couldn't be created with the help of some sparkly sharpies. So I set to work. Of course, if I'm trying to do anything, all the childrens want to help me. Being foolish, I only bought exactly enough blank wood ornaments required. So I was very nervous when it came to letting Baby attempt some, but she did a lovely job. As did Baba, who offered to take over the cursive writing for Baby. It was good that I let them assist, because sure enough, Cinco discovered that her mother was paying attention to something other than her young offspring. All was not right in the world. So she screamed, I hopped too, and the older girls created. Everything was going well. As I rocked Cinco in a the darkened bedroom, the girls let me know they had finished the project and were heading to bed. We all called it a night. I personally don't agree with Cinco's definition of a night, that is a period of dark in which one eats and plays and pulls the hair of whomever you are closest too. A real night should also involve nose biting. According to Cinco that is.
I overslept the next morning and had to head to the office immediately. The office being the room across from my bedroom. Normally I would start with a cup of coffee before jumping into the work day, but I was running late and had a ton to do and off I went to teach math. I have been working at this job since before Mac was born, so all of my children know the drill. And, from what I can tell, the drill involves getting up earlier than normal, stomping down the stairs immediately, having an emergency that must be brought to my attention immediately, that emergency being "will we have breakfast this morning?" because, you know, I often don't offer breakfast, having another emergency which ought to have been brought to my attention yesterday being "can we eat right now because I'm HUNNNNNGGGRRRRYYY!!!!", followed by being annoyed in my vicinity, getting into several fights with siblings and bellowing, while sitting next to me "MOOOOOM X-Man's POOOOPPPPY AND IT STINKS!!!!! CHANGE IT NOW!!!!!" Did I mention I am on the phone to a student at this time? Explaining the quadratic formula and everything. On a non-phone call day, they sleep attempt to sleep until nine.
So there I was, instructing away, attempting to draw a line on a rectangular coordinate system with a mouse, giving all appearances of being drunk a full two hours into the day, when I heard Baby's dramatic gasp followed by "X-MAN!!!! NO!!!! MOOOOOOM!!!"
In my sleepy foolishness, I had gone to bed when Cinco drifted off, hey I had ten minutes before she started partying again. I forgot that my children had been working on a project, which guaranteed that it would be still out, laying on the table. And, by forgoing my morning coffee, I failed to realized the light that I thought was the upcoming day was actually the X-Man freight of destruction.
I came home to this note written to the tooth fairy by Baby. After I finished cringing over the spelling, I was able to delight in it. Somewhat. Mostly I just despaired at the spelling.