Yesterday was one of those days: not the kind that immediately gets off to a bad start, but the kind that starts out relatively well, then, say, within an hour of daybreak, starts a steady slide into a mess of a misplaced shoes, and “I don’t like waffles for breakfast!”, and just throwing all the dirty dishes into the sink because if you take the time to do them now–still have to get those shoes, you know–you’ll be late again to preschool drop-off. So. Not a bad day, per se. Just one of those days. You picking up what I’m stepping in? The situation hadn’t changed much by the time Quinn and I went to pick Saoirse up from school. We got there early, since I was the “Guest Reader” that day (So much squirming, these precious little kids do…), gathered up my eldest, and away we went. Every single day after we leave school, Saoirse asks if we can go to a “lestaraunt” for lunch. Every day, the answer is no, sweetie, we’re heading home to have…
