The house is remarkably quiet this morning - two of the children have gone out for the day, leaving me with Little Miss 6 - essentially as her chaperone to and from a dance rehearsal.
A little later I have to get her into a tap dancing outfit (essentially a fake waistcoat andbow tie made from lycra), and walk her down to the place the mayhem will be happening. I have strict instructions to tie her hair up a certain way (already shown to me), provide her a packed lunch (already made), and something quiet to entertain her between her sessions. She decided on an old Gameboy.
This afternoon is going to be strange - once I’ve dropped her off, I’ll be at a loose end for several hours - that just doesn’t happen around here at all.In reality I’ll probably end back home putting loads through the washing machine, and putting other people’s stuff away.
I sometimes wonder if all people with young families live in the same chaos we do. We generate prodigious amounts of washing up, and nobody seems to put anything away. Every day when I get in from work, and every weekend morning I spend at least the first hour clearing the decks. If I miss a day, things go to hell immediately. I’ve pretty much given up on using the study at all for fear of an avalanche. As soon as I clear it, the mountains of crap in there come back twice as fast.
Ok. That’s quite enough belly-aching.
Listening to “Ocean Drive” by Lighthouse Family. I just pulled it off the shelf randomly, and remembered that I used to quite like them - even if every track they ever recorded sounded the same.
Perhaps later I might wander into town - sans children - and actually get a chance to look around without a little person chattering non-stop. A new caf opened recently on the way into town. While there’s a temptation to take my messenger bag and sit in the caf with the netbook, a little voice in my head tells me that coffee at home is free.