Sort of like Iraq and Iran, the Sunni and the Shiite, and Bill Lee and Craig Nettles at a MLB reunion. Peace, but tenuous at best.
Trot, with pants way too big for his body and in desperate need of a haircut 10 minutes before he invades pre-school. In a miracle not seen since the one on 34th street, he's been good the whole time, his teachers love him, and no bodily function has taken place outside the bathroom in the first 2 weeks.
The hammer is gonna drop soon; I just don't know when. So far, school and discipline are agreeing with my 3 year old maniac and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Although I keep waiting for that one phone call describing mayhem and carnage, so far? So good.
One upside to all this? Trot is so worn out by the end of the day he fell asleep on page 3 of the "Frog Prince" which allowed me to finish at my own pace and only have to make sure one kid brushed his teeth tonight.
It's a little thing but I take my victories where I can.
7-7 headed into the top of the ninth.
I've got a sinking feeling I've got a REALLY long night ahead of me.
She’d Pick Me Every Time
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