My semester is winding down and that means everything is due and I'm pretty busy. I'm looking forward to summer.
The girls are partially to blame, by refusing to say or do anything of remarkable cuteness. Children are not so fascinating that I'm willing to type out their breakfast menus or petty spats with each other. They must do their part by being interesting. It's the least they can do for the attention lavished upon them.
Imogen has been going to school quite ordinarily without being either deplorably bad or angelically good. She has nothing more exciting than a spelling bee and History Day coming up. For history day she will dress as a Native American from Montana and recite a paragraph about the state. Montana is a dull state but all the interesting ones were taken. There is a shortage of interesting states and they don't go very far in a class of 14.
Genevieve has also been neither atrocious nor saintly. Perhaps I should be grateful. I'm very suspicious of saintly behavior, viewing it as either a cover up for what is really happening or a short stage to be followed by a disproportionately long period of the aforementioned atrociousness.
Yesterday we went to Incredible Pizza. Think Chuck E Cheese's, but with better games. The girls had a great time, and as they were crawling through those plastic tubes from ball pits to slides, I collapsed on a bench to look around me. I shouted a compliment to the woman sitting next to me regarding the prettiness of the baby on her lap and I could not help but think that this place was everything that is wrong with parenting. It's brightly colored and plastic (in other words, unattractive). It's loud with shouting, music, and a discordant symphony of beeps from the various rides and games. It was so overstimulating that Imogen was wired for the rest of the day and Genevieve came home and fell asleep before dinner.
And they loved every moment of it. Oh well.
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