Sometimes I’m really tired.
Sometimes it’s work related.
Sometimes it’s because I ran.
Sometimes it’s because I didn’t run.
Sometimes, sometimes, it’s J Man’s over-active imagination.
A couple of nights ago I was putting the kids to bed (Matty B was working late) and J picked up a new chapter book that he got for Christmas. It was one of those somewhat irreverent comic-like books that are supposed to trick seven year-old boys into reading.
We read the first chapter together and he liked the book. “Can I keep reading with my flashlight for a little bit?” he asked. You want to keep reading for pleasure? Yes, my child.
Hugs, kisses, prayers, etc.
90 minutes later, the dude comes sobbing into my room.
“There was a bad guy in that book and what if I have a bad dream?”
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“No, but what if I do???”
I snuggled him in his bed, we said prayers and sang songs and made a list of happy things to think about. No success. J Man ended up sleeping at the foot of our bed until 3:18 a.m. where we had the exact conversation above and he snuggled up to me in bed, blowing hot sleepy breath directly into my face.
Needless to say, I was pretty tired the next day. The same day that I had to make pie for a teacher party. (Does it seem like I’ve been making lots of pie? I have.)
So used this no roll pie crust recipe and while it’s not pretty, I was super happy that I didn’t have a pile of flour to clean up afterward. Or a rolling pin to wash.
But I’m still tired.