It was a therapy playgroup morning, and I was still in bed at 7:26. Tutu was stuck to my back like a limpet, Chicagoboy was running out the door, and Bunbun was still in dreamland. I ran into his room, opening blinds, making a ruckus, because, of course, he can’t just be shaken awake.
I kiss him on those soft little cheeks, no response.
I run back to Tutu, get her stuffed into her sausage casing du jour [I really need to get her clothes that fit], run downstairs, make coffee, get the cereal ready, run back upstairs, Bunbun still asleep.
It is now 7:45
I shake him awake. He cries.
I carry him downstairs, sit him in front of his cereal. He cries.
I drink my coffee, pick out his clothes from the clean pile of laundry on the guest bed. Tutu cries.
I nurse her.
I ask Bunbun if he’s done. No response.
I pick him up, wash his hands and face. I run him upstairs and dress him.
8:20. I put his shoes on. He screams.
8:31. We are in the car. Playgroup starts at 8:30.
We get to the playgroup at 8:50. New kids there today, room is full of people. Bunbun runs to the dolphin swing. Only, its on the wall, and not in use today.
Screams. We try to distract him, tell him its stuck, here’s the tire swing, here’s the board swing…nope.
The swing is moved into another room. He tries to follow. He is inconsolable.
And this is the tone of the next hour and half.
And Tutu needs a nap, and so she is crying intermittently…
And I need a drink.