Please read that title in Fat Amy voice from “Pitch Perfect” with a whipping sound at the end.
As I kissed my hubby goodbye this morning, he asked me to avoid any near accidents this morning. I guess if I don’t want him to know about it, I shouldn’t put it on my blog. It’s nice to know he reads it though.
Today was my nine-year-old’s first day of 4th Grade and my four-year-old’s first day of Pre-K. As I’m waiting in the line to drop off my nine-year-old, my eleven-year-old tells me he has to be to school in 10 minutes. Oops. I should have known the time he needed to be dropped of because during my freak out about him going to middle school I called the school to find out what time he had to be there. I had a fibro fog moment and spaced it. He got there with 6 minutes to get to his locker and then to class. I know that’s on time, technically, but I’m going to have to figure out something different for tomorrow.
The baby didn’t want me to leave her at preschool. I thought we’d be okay because when she saw her teacher she dropped her lunch and threw her arms around her for a big hug. I tried to get a picture, but I was too slow. After she put her lunch in the fridge, she started hiding behind my legs. Eventually I convinced her that if she played with something, I would sneak out and she wouldn’t even notice I was gone. I’ll find out if it worked when I pick her up this afternoon.
No near accidents. Kids on time. Crushed it. Whippish.