It's supposed to be bedtime and all I can reflect on is how my role in life is bewildering. Take tonight for example: Hazel's screaming at me because I try to change her clothes for bed after she's begging me to "dup" her in bed, Eli's crying because he really, really wishes he could see a live saber-tooth tiger, and Abby's busy reorganizing her schoolbag after she spent ten minutes searching without seeing it lying on the floor of her room. Five minutes after the drama, Hazel is reading a doggie book, clutching her dee & little Elmo; Eli is showing me what skipping and galloping are; and Abby is among the missing...most likely in her room thinking about getting dressed for bed or maybe she's following directions and brushing her teeth.
Hans sadly commented some years ago how disappointed he was to realize his wrists are too small for him to be a sword fighter in the fourteenth century. As this information came completely out of the blue and with obvious distress on his part, I was very confused as to what I missed. How does one respond to this sort of statement? Seriously?
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