What is it about four p.m.?
Three-fifty p.m. is easy-peasy.
Four o’clock hits and all hell breaks loose. I have recently been laid off and so my kids
are home with me all day. I know, cue the violins. But hear me out,
please. We have lots of fun in the
mornings going on various adventures. Lunch
and nap follow and everyone seems to know what is expected of them. Nap time is over and play time
commences. All seems to be going well
and then, bam! It’s four o’clock. Daddy can’t get home soon enough as far as I am
concerned. No amount of projects,
crafts, games, toys, TV shows, or even the sacred IPad, is enough to induce
good behavior. The three year-old and 1
year-old are fighting over toys, tearing apart the house, jumping on the couch,
annoying the dog, wanting Mommy to be the entertainer extraordinaire. (Did the previous seven hours mean
nothing?) Meanwhile, Mommy is attempting
to cook a homemade, nutritious dinner which needs to be ready by five-thirty or
these precious kids will really lose it. On the really bad days, a glass of “mommy
juice,” as one of my dear friends calls it, tends to be the best coping mechanism.
Wink, wink.
Maybe it’s the anticipation of the hour. They know it’s almost dinner time, they
know Daddy will be home soon-ish. They also are probably sick of Mommy and
would like someone different to take over. Me too, kids. At this point, the letters d-a-d-d-y take on
a whole new meaning for all of us. (Incidentally, the letters I would like to
conjure an appearance are g-r-a-m-m-y.) But, I am not quite sure Daddy
understands the importance of his homecoming.
I do know that he better be ready to hit the ground running.
Daddy arrives, said nutritious dinner is consumed, and all is right in the world again. Until tomorrow.
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| Photo taken sometime after four o'clock. |
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