Avery was sitting on the toilet taking her sweet time as I kept her company. Fin was clinging to my legs and swatting at all manner of chokables. Dinner was simmering, sputtering and overflowing on the stove. Briar called from the other room:
“Mom, I’m thirsty. Can you please get me juice?”
I called back in a tense voice, “Not now Briar, I am trying to do five things and I CANNOT handle anything else.”
She didn’t answer back. I exhaled as Avery laughed.
“No, silly, mama. You aren’t doing five things, you’re only doin’ two.”
And cue slumping shoulders and wry smile.
How many things are you doing?