Subject to Early Failsauce

I admit it. It’s terrible.

I’m having trouble getting back on the serious, studious student train. I haven’t read to the bratasaur in probably a week. I’m posting later this week than I generally intended to. I won’t make excuses, because there are none. To say… I finally got my hands on Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword and this is just horrible, horrible, horrible for my productivity.

I’m not saying I’m falling behind on schoolwork, because I am just barely in fact not falling behind. There’s some ailing little sliver of my quasi-responsible self that jabs me in the asscheeks regularly to remind me of my commitments enough that I manage to keep up where it would be truly detrimental to be not keeping up. Oh, yeah. And it was my lovey’s 38th birthday a few days back. Love you, sappy cheeseball.

Eck. Too much emotions. My mental faculties are proceeding with the hurling. Aaaand… onward!

So there was wind today. LOTS OF IT. The kind that makes rain go sideways and is kinda fun to watch but implants in you a deep seated urge to do the opposite of any activity that involves going out the front (or back) door. Alls I’m saying is there better not be any windstorm-like activity tomorrow morning or leaving the house to go to school will be one giant ball of unfun suckrock.

Oh and speaking of bratasaurs – so, the aforementioned tornado monkey comes clamouring down the stairs one day while I am trying to concentrate somewhat hard on something of at least moderate importance and exclaims:

“Mommy, are you going to DIE?!?”

In all honesty, I tried my hardest not to laugh as it was so utterly random. I managed the straight face quite well, actually. These random outbursts are to be expected from kindergarteners. Quite simply, my response was:

“No, not today. Is your table tidy?”

Straightface. I’m really quite good at that. In any case, I had been trying my darndest for near-on three days at that point to get her to clean her room. Some days she’s really quite good about picking up after herself (with the teensiest bit of prompting) and her room could remain perfectly tidy and in order for a week or more. But then it just utterly flees her and there’s nothing you could do to get her to pick up even just a few small items on the floor (like, a stuffed animal, an item or two of dirty laundry and her blanket and pillow, for example) and the mess instead snowballs into something that takes a week to get her to clean up. Oy. There has to be a better way of doing this.

Over and out.

-Kaman

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