Someone had a little fever this morning. Somewhat unrelated, I'm working from home four days a week, and one of those days happens to be Thursday. Today. A sick day - work day.
Right now, I'm hearing little sleepy whimpers coming from the direction of the P.'s room. If she's waking up now, I'm grateful that it's after my client call. That, at least, was not impacted by an irritated tear-stained voice saying "Mama! I have a booger again!"
Now, why is it that I can work from home and keep my house clean and I can be at home with P. and keep my house clean, but when I am working from home with P. it starts to look like a bomb went off pretty much as soon as I sit down at my computer?
In the kitchen, I'll add, so it's not like I shut myself up in an office.
P. was being so quiet in the bathroom that I decided a check-in was in order.
Silence. The surprising bane of working from home with children.
I walked in to find the cliched toilet bowl full of wadded up toilet paper and P. cleaning her already clean baby doll with yet another piece of TP. "It's okay to take a little toilet paper to clean a baby," she told me. When I told her that too much paper could clog (break) the toilet, she apologized. Would you believe that this is our first ever toilet paper incident?
The only real heartache came when I stopped what I was doing - boring stuff - to help P. get a book off her bookshelf. Which she then asked me to read to her. Later was my answer. And your video is still on. And thank you for being so patient, my darling.
I'm grateful there were no tears, just a little girl's sigh of resigned patience.