Supper

Two weeks ago E and I set out as intrepid explorers to tackle the Cub Scout run. We dropped off the older two, took care of a friend who was lost and crying, visited with one of the den leaders, ran to the grocery store, went back to pick up the big boys, zipped over to a friend’s place to pick up a bouncy chair, and then finally headed home. 

I had been telling the boys the plan according to “next this then that” and once we got home the plan was that I would start supper immediately then feed E and help Blue with his homework. 

“Change of plans,” I announced in the car. “I’ve got to feed E and then I’ll start supper.” 

The little one, for his part, was not sqwauking and though sucking the soother vigorously was otherwise content. The older brothers questioned my change of plans and I explained it was because I had already started leaking. 

“What does that mean?” Blue asked. 

“Well,” I started before I gave myself time to think, “it means supper’s on the table.”

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