Yesterday morning, as I sat beside my handsome husband in the school gym watching Madeline and her class perform a theatrical version of Little Red Hen, I had no idea that in a little more than twenty-four hours later, this story would become a parable for my life!
"Who will help me tidy up the floor before bedtime?"
My crew might as well have oinked, mooed, barked, and meowed in a chorus of "Not I! I'm too busy using up all of the Scotch Tape in the house/going to bed early/jumping off of the sofa/surfing the 'net/whining about random things that are sooo important to my life as a six year old that you are too old to possibly understand/etc" …
"Who will help me with bedtime?"
"Who will help me clean up the kitchen? We all ate the dinner, you know."
"Who will help me with Sadie's birthday baking?"
Not I. Unless the "I" in question is me. My fifteen-hour day on the job has nearly come to and end; I'm just waiting for the last batch of sugar cookies to cool enough to be put into the fridge. Hopefully I didn't cough on the dough because I really don't want to share the plague that I'm battling with my favourite family of hibernators (whom I do love very much, even if they are all sleeping while I'm still hard at work!).
And, oh yeah! The play? Madeline and her classmates did a fantastic job! I don't think that I will ever get tired of watching my first little baby do amazing things! I feel kind of silly, though, as I'm nearly positive that I was the only parent there tearing up at the performance. It's not like Little Red Hen was a tragedy, you know.