The Mule

Once in awhile, Freestone doesn't make it to school.  He doesn't whine or complain; if he did, he'd be shoved out the door tout suite.  He simply doesn't go.  He's like a mule.  He digs in and won't move.  On these rare days, I find myself wishing he could stay home more often.  It's fun to have a friend, babysitter, chef, dining companion and world-class conversationalist at my disposal.  Also, it's fun to have one kid (OK, three) instead of all the kids.  After school there are a lot of voices and a lot of needs.  The more needs there are, the more urgent Xanthe's homework becomes, and the louder Tziporah's demands are and the hungrier everyone is and well, it can be chaotic.

In other words, after school is the opposite of a sunny morning of eggs and bacon and nowhere to be while the littles watch TV and Freestone tells me all about Magic the Gathering.  I'd like to gather some magic of my own.  I suppose that's why I don't complain when the mule won't go.