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?