Backpacks hit the floor. Shoes go flying.
“MOM!!!! Where’s my pink ballet outfit??? The one with the…….blah, blah, blah???”
I don’t answer because I know she will eventually look under something and find it.
Back door slams and the ballerina (too shy for formal training) lets go of all her stresses from the day.
Completely unaware of the floral underpants hanging out the side.
Then it’s homework in every location of the house. Too antsy to settle into one and get the job done.
For the male counterpart, it’s swords and weaponry of all kinds, made of all things.
The clock strikes HOMEWORK and the stalling begins.
How can ONE page take so very, very long?!?!
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