Speaking of Kids...

The house is finally still. Quiet enough that I can hear the wind rustling through the pine tree's and the gentle slosh of the lake as waves lap to the shore. An hour ago, only a small corner of the house was quiet - the cushion on the couch where a four year-old sat pouting over the shape of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich (round, as opposed to square...but I was out of Wonderbread, so hamburger bun's were it. Sorry kid.)

I babysat Summer's daughters today. A four year-old and a toddler only five months older than my son. They're good, fairly easy going kids. But they still poop and snot and pout when things don't go their way. They get sticky fingers and harrass the cat and ask a thousand questions and demand that I count to one hundred (outloud, please) while I put away the blocks. All this to some Disney inspired themesong that's blaring from the television that no child is watching, though they all clamored for me to put the DVD in.

And now I'm feeling like a sack of flour left out in the rain with a pinhole in its rump. Heavy, messy, drained.

But that was just round one. Tonight we're watching my nephew. At least nighttime babysitting involves bedtimes. Glorious bedtime. And to be fair, my little nephew is easy as ice cream on a hot day to love - and almost just as easy to take care of. So, no complaints here. Just exhaustion.

I should probably find a way to mend the hole in my lazy-sack before he shows up.

So tough to do without coffee...