Less easy. He needed me to sit with him while he ate his grapes (s-l-o-w-l-y).
Sometime after I eventually left he apparently relieved himself of all the poop he held in yesterday morning as, when I picked him up at noon, his backpack included a loosely wrapped package of festering shorts. Yum.
It is now 1.44pm and he is NOT sleeping. He should be. He's very tired. He's telling Basil bear to "stop iiiiiiit"; I wonder what the hell the bear is doing.
In what part of my brain did I think I was going to be able to get them to sleep (Clara is home too), practice yoga, eat a leisurely lunch and then, when they awoke, spend a fun afternoon at the tulip garden kicking soccer balls into flower beds?
I must have been on crack. Instead it took forever to get them home, fed and in bed. By that time the floor was covered in soup. By the time I cleaned that up, I needed to eat. Now I am too full to bend over, and the kids aren't sleeping (so, no yoga). And when we give up the pretense of napping at 3, they will be too loudly, crazily, red-eyedly tired to take out anywhere, even to the tulip garden.