When your kid steps in sh**. The dog variety, of course. Honestly, if there is one thing I am so over, it is people not cleaning up after their dogs.
But let’s start at the beginning: That moment when Julian stepped in dog sh** was pretty metaphoric for how our entire day went yesterday.
In the morning I took both boys to school on the bike. They were excited. We sang our “We’re going back to school today” song that we creatively made up. Spirits were high. Arthur was happy to say good-bye. I felt like such a winner, riding my bike home with the empty kid seats behind me and Bruce playing from the speaker, with the entire day ahead of me. Plans included terribly exciting things such as changing the sheets and vacuuming, but also running errands in Soho and a lunch all by myself.
That’s when my front tire went flat.
So I wasted 40 minutes waiting for the bike shop to open, then had the bike fixed, then rode home. Spirits at this point were slightly less high.
Then I changed the sheets. And vacuumed. And then the boys’ school called because Arthur was crying. We agreed to wait another 30 minutes and if he was inconsolable, I would pick him up. What followed were a couple of slightly-less-calm-than-I-would-have-wished phone calls requesting I retrieve my child immediately. So off I went.
When I got there I could hear Arthur screaming from across the street. He was sitting in a chair with a bowl of goldfish in front of him, screaming his head off. His eyes were red, and his face was blotchy. He calmed down immediately when I picked him up and said that he was crying because he wasn’t allowed to play with one thing or another. In speaking with Julian later, we think it happened when everyone was supposed to sit down for circle time and Arthur had a hard time following the instructions. But it is kind of amazing that I have to get that sort of information from my 4 year old, rather than from the teachers. On the way home Arthur just hugged me and said he missed me. Which…I mean….sad. I think we overestimated his sense of independence, which is so strong, but in reality he’s never been away from me, ever, so this is a difficult transition for him.
So we went home, had lunch, and he napped. When Julian came home from school (he tagged along with one of his friends so I didn’t have to make the trip again), we went for a bike/scooter ride and, you know, stepped in dog sh**. But whatever.
Today was significantly better. We had speech therapy, which is totally a happy time for all of us (the boys ask about the teacher a day in advance and sit at the window calling her name…in fact, this morning Julian said, “Today is the day I get to see Katie!”).
We met our friends for play and lunch. We rode our bike. We jumped.
On the ride home Arthur briefly fell asleep on the bike for about a minute, and for some reason that counted as his nap, and he spent an hour in the boys room playing witch and whatnot with his brother. While I napped. And then we did some of this.
After not napping and fooling around, we had some ice cream. And played and got dirty and even more tired.
So. All I’m thinking is that tomorrow won’t be as bad as yesterday but may not be as good as today, and that is totally fine with me.