I’m rather sick now and the main suspect is the ridiculous amount of dried apricots I consumed whilst planning a hypothetical vacation during nap time. I can only blame myself I suppose.
The day has not been one of my most glorious ones, hence the escapism manifested in becoming my own travel agent for an hour. It was fun, but I probably should have put the giant bag of apricots to the side while I investigated 3,000 dollar a night hotel rooms. No matter how grand you know your life is, there are some days where all your problems would be solved if you could only get your hands on a 3,000 dollar/night hotel room.
And do you know why I rarely blog now? Why my posts are lucky to have proper sentence structure? Because I have a bunch of little people climbing all over me. Since the last paragraph I have been asked to cuddle, because I’m “soft” (ahem), and I have had someone commandeer the mouse to click over on a photo of an owl that we “will never see again” and now that same someone is demanding that I type, “Quinten wants to invite Caiden, Kayley and Ainsley over for his birthday party”…which is in September. It’s never too early to be prepared for a party, and it’s never too early to stop eating apricots. There’s only too late.
Speaking of stomach disorders, or as Q has helped me type, “disqorgrs”, I have been feeding the baby prunes and finally the floodgates have been let loose (“next time you have to press ‘T’ will you tell me and I’ll press it for you mom?”). All this to say that I’ve noticed that prune baby food is a prophetic food. It’s an exact representation of what is to come, but less stinky.
These are my deeper thoughts.
I feel like perhaps I’m torturing you, as I do my husband, who I called an hour ago to announce that I had eaten too many apricots AND I had found a hotel suite that has a doorbell that howls like a wolf if you press it.
Consider yourself loved.