My head's all a rattlin' because I need to finish Chapter Four today to get it to my writing buddy in time for our meeting tomorrow.
Tomorrow is also Winton's last day at Maria's. He starts at Clara's school on Monday. I've been taking one or other of the kids to Maria for four years. I think I'm about to find the transition very hard. I am agonizing extensively over the appropriate goodbye gift. Really what says "thank-you for doing what I couldn't and probably pulling it off far better than I would have"? A card seems inadequate.
And I need to screw up my courage to be a pain in the ass and ask Clara's school if she can be in the same group as her friend Henry for the next summer camp session.
And I have a painful lump on my hand (bone chip? spider bite?).
As if sensing my need to slow down and take a minute to breathe (pah!), Winton had his biggest wipe-out ever this morning. In an effort to jump up Maria's steps when we arrived, he instead tipped forward and slammed his head onto the concrete, while biting his lip. Blood on his face, his shirt, the step. I spent a good amount of time in Maria's kitchen daubing blood off his bit lip and musing on whether this was an emergency room visit. No. Not. Bleeding stopped. Winton got to eat a lot of ice which kept the swelling down. When he got up and demanded his Dora doll, I figured we were in the clear.