Rachel from the bedroom: Do you know what I would have been doing on a Saturday night when I was growing up?
The older kids from the comfort of the couch: What?
Rachel: Unloading hundreds of bales of hay.
Jeremiah in a quiet voice: Well, we don’t live on a farm.
Me (sitting by Jeremiah): Son, don’t go there.
Trying to explain that not all the clocks that Lily would come across in her life would be in sync with each other was its own sort of anguish. I’m sure she still thinks I’m wrong and will one day get to correct me.
The younger two are riding their tricycles around the house (yes, inside and no, that was not my idea) and I keep calling them to come to the table to eat lunch.
Me: Girls, if you two don’t come to the table right now I am going to have to put your tricycles outside.
Rykie: Wait Mama! I’m just looking for a place to park.
Foster Me 