My Quirky Boy

I am not sure how they know, but my children always know when it is Friday. In the morning they seem to be bulging at the seams. The threads of their tolerance are pulled as tight as they will go. This morning after I left for work my Girl child cried, and called my name over and over until 25 minutes after my departure hubby couldn’t take it one minute longer. He resorted to calling me me on the phone, and I talked to her while he made lunches. G calmed down and did end up having just a dandy day at school, telling everyone what to do.

At work I am working on a horrendously painful project, and I have been pushing through a cold that would fell a lesser person. Our family is facing some challenges, and our general stress level has definitely been riding the red line as of late. I arrived home at the end of the day to an empty house and it wasn’t hard to guess Hubby, and Fin were out hunting us down a tasty pizza. Much to my delight, and consternation it came complete with a six pack. The combo of melted cheese and this:

Made me sigh in relaxed relief. We are going to stay home tomorrow, not leave the house to avoid the cold, and do lots and lots of art projects. I wish the weekend was endless, but too soon I will feel like I blinked, and Monday will be leaning towards me. When it does, it reminds me of a zombie reaching toward me with dirty fingers groping for my throat. I respond the same in both situations, I will turn away in horror, and revulsion.