It's cold, windy, and rainy, so I know the school pickup is going to be crazier than usual. I leave early to get a good spot, but all the spots (good AND bad) are already taken by the time I get there. I circle slowly with all the other vultures, waiting for the doors to open and vomit out our junior highers. Twenty minutes later, an angry, waterlogged creature whips open my door and starts complaining about where I parked. We argue about that most of the way home. Then she wants to know what's for dinner.
Me: Soup.
Sarah: What kind?
M: Potato, sausage, and kale.
S: Real sausage?
M: Real veggie sausage.
S: *SIGH* I'll just find something else.
Now we're home, both kids at the desk working on their individual algebra lessons. They both hate algebra. I like it, but these people are getting close to making me hate it. They both want my help. Sarah looks at her problem, full of variables, signs, and numbers, and asks, "What kind of witchcraft is this?!"
I shush her and ask her not to distract Noah, who still has a lot of work to do.
Ten minutes later, Noah is having a fit about his problem, and I shush him and ask him not to distract Sarah, who still has a lot of work to do.
After I help Sarah untangle her witchcraft, I try to make cornbread muffins, but I have to continually mediate the sniping going on in the school room. Not my favorite kind of day.
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