yell "Stop that!" to Sebby in the other room, even though I don't know what he's doing.
And usually, I'm right.
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Children's voices in the orchard
Between the blossom- and the fruit-time:
Golden head, crimson head,
Between the green tip and the root.
Black wing, brown wing, hover over;
Twenty years and the spring is over;
To-day grieves, to-morrow grieves,
Cover me over, light-in-leaves;
Golden head, black wing,
Cling, swing,
Spring, sing,
Swing up into the apple-tree.
--T.S. Eliot
© 2015 light-in-leaves. Justine Template designed by Georgia Lou Studios All rights reserved.
Thus perpetuating the myth of mother's eyes in the back of their head. Sebby's going to grow up thinking your some kind of psychic. (is that spelled right?)
ReplyDeleteThank you! You have restored my belief in . . . I don't know. The lesson on Sunday was about "communicating to your children with love" and no one appreciated that I tell Sophie "Name one plausible excuse for not sitting on the potty before we leave. Go ahead. I dare you." But I feel better now.
ReplyDeletewv: cluck. Really? How is a real word, correctly spelled, supposed to be secure?
It's the mommy radar. And it probably has to do with the fact that suddenly, you have registered the quiet in that room-
ReplyDelete