On Friday, I was a bad parent.

I was exhausted! I can always tell when I'm tired. I snap at the kids, I find myself sighing instead of laughing at their antics, and I can't seem to string together the proper words to form a cohesive thought.

So, Friday, I took a nap. My kids were awake, my door was open, but I was still able to take a nap.

It was lovely.

When I woke up an hour and a half later (that's right!), I was immediately inundated with horrible thoughts: were my kids safe, did they start a fire, did the house collapse on top of them?!

Hurrying out (but trying to act cool, calm, collected in case I was over-reacting) I found my kids drawing quietly. They weren't using permanent markers. They weren't drawing on my floor. They weren't fighting! They weren't... destroying.

I was so relieved and puzzled that all I could think to ask was if they had eaten a snack yet. Yes, they said.  They gestured to a chair nearby without looking up from their drawings. Here is what they had put together:

Apples and bananas with plastic forks and knives.

Seriously, who are these children?