Yesterday the kids ran around and joyously flung sticks into the woodshed. It was fun, you see.
Today is....not so fun. Today feels more like work and less like we're working near dangerous machinery! Today is more of a grind.
I should have known the kids would find some way to liven things up.
Rosey, the fashionista, was clad in a red flowered top, red and white polka-dotted shoes, and a loose white skirt. When told to go change, she carried on for a bit. When I got tired of reasoning with her (when, oh WHEN am I going to learn that reasoning isn't her strong suit?) I reached out and tugged at her skirt, knocking it down so it rode dangerously low on her hips.
'THAT'S why, R.'
Rosey may not be flexible, but she's not stupid. She gets that clothing that falls off is too big.
Did I mention that the firehall across the road from us was serving breakfast that morning? There was a group of fireman (enjoying a smoke break - don't get that but....oookay) and their wives loitering around the doorway.
So when Rosey ripped down her skirt to her ankles and marched off to the house (incidently taking her panties with it) she had a good-sized audience to witness her anguish at not being able to wear what she wanted to.
Always with the last word.