First there was the running away and down the corridor, peaking in on other meetings in session. They were quickly called back and harnessed into the stroller and fed snacks, but the damage was done. They had tasted freedom and nothing else would soothe those savage beasts. I had my conversation with a sweet little french-accented girl, er young woman. She told me (in between me snapping at the kids to "Eat it and be quiet and keep your hands on your own side!") that my weekly payments of negative eleventy five cents would just have to stop once my course starts in September, since I wouldn't be ready and willing and able to work anymore. Duh.
But there's another program I may qualify for, one which I thought I was going to talk to them about today. But no, it's run by an affiliated company down the street. I asked for their phone number, so I could set up a time, and the cheery lady at the front desk told me I should just pop in, it was so close! I motioned to the boys and might have muttered something about poo flinging, and she just smiled.
So we decided to stop in anyway.
The man at the desk called us all over, told the boys to pull up a chair, they happily obliged and I was cautiously optimistic that things would go well. So I chatted and went over a few questions and key points and was setting up a time when the chaos erupted. Complete with spinning chairs and battle cries. Another caseworker came out to shush them just as I turned around, eyes shooting laser beams into their little brains and they fell silent. Until it was time to leave and Felix didn't want to vacate his spaceship. And enter screaming pterodactyl boy. I actually crammed my hand in his mouth to stifle him as we fled.
Knowing they needed to burn off more energy, we stopped at a little green space on the way home and they ran, ran, ran and climbed trees. And fell out of trees. There was crying. And running away. The usual.
Home again home again jiggity jig... we packed a snack on the fly, had a potty party and hustled out to the car for a trip out to Nanny's house. I'd hopped they'd doze off, but nope. Arrived, helped build a rock warning edge around the sheer cliff that ends their back lawn, then went swimming. Or rock picking. It was a combo, really. The waterfront at mom's is beautiful but rocky and slippy sharp. So we dug out a little pool for the kids to play in, heaving rocks to form a wall. Elliot wouldn't go any deeper than his hips and Felix, who wasn't in a life jacket, launched himself in up to his face, fearlessly lapping at the salt water. Next time, I'll re-think the flotation device distribution. (We only had the one, since I'd forgotten ours at home. Bummer.)
Rocky pool |
Water baby |
Popsicle boy |
Cheers!
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