I worked about 20 hours of overtime this week. Needless to say, this got me a bit behind on all things domestic, although I did manage to get my column in on time. I don't believe I ever missed a deadline before, and the thought that I might was some powerful motivation.
This morning, I hit the ground running. I was anxious to get the house caught up. William was here, but he was still sleeping, so I took advantage of the couple hours before he got up, and I'm telling you, I was flying. Even rearranged the furniture in our bedroom.
William got up, and he began to 'hep memaw', and things got a bit more difficult. But I soldiered on, despite Williams's 'hep'.
Tim had been at his garage working on a car. Coming home, he realized there was heavy equipment working in the street in front of the house. I had heard it, but I was working, and William was 'hepping' and, well....
So, Tim charged in the house and he was all kinds of ways upset that William was not dressed yet. He chided me for not taking him outside. "Where's his shorts?" and "Where's his socks?" and he was pretty impatient. I said, "Gees, Tim..." and Tim said, "There's a big truck outside and a digger...we need to hurry up so he can see them.
Tim was always the one who said, "We work first, and once the work is done, we can play." I watched the two of them run out the door talking about trucks and digging, and fixing the road. Funny how a little child can change everything.