Someone Needs to Go Back to School
Nora loves to type random letters on my keyboard and then have me read them to her. For example:
aiopwpeoinbknps. She delights in the sounds, all garbled and silly. So do I.
After a few minutes of this, I start typing sentences for her to read:
I love Nora.
Nora loves cats.
Nora loves stars.
Nora loves dogs.
Nora loves blue.
She did fine up until this last one. "Nora loves...b....Nora loves....bue..." Suddenly a look of recognition. "NORA LOVES BOOBS!"
This is what happens when you miss almost two weeks of school.
So, this is Friday night, eh?
I know I've been sick, but it's Friday. I'm pretty sure if I wipe the rim of my wine glass with a Clorox disinfecting wipe, I'm in the clear.
Maybe It's A Little Too Soon to Try Jumping on the Bed, Nora
There's a look of panic on her face. I grab her around the waist and rush her out toward the bathroom. "Stop, Mom. Stop." I put her down. "It's okay. I just threw up a little in my mouth, but I swallowed it. That's the easiest way to take care of throwing up."
We rest. We mend. We eat a little. We mend. We are loved from near and far. We mend. Prayers go up. We mend. We laugh. We mend.
