This afternoon has been very busy.
We finished up the last of the schoolwork at the big wooden kitchen table, then shuffled all the books into a pile and put them away.
I spent a good hour and a half at the counter and the stove, whipping up tonight’s supper of Sloppy Joes and Suzie’s delicious Midwest Chowder (listed in the comments on this post below). The girls kept me company while I worked, chattering nonstop & spilling vast amounts of moon sand on the kitchen floor.
I had them sweep.
And then I organized a whole-house rescue—similar to a FlyLady-esque “room rescue” only on a much broader scale—so that the house would be clean & tidy upon Papa’s return.
And then I collapsed into a chair.
I could hear Angela in the kitchen still—could hear the clank of jars and thump of the cutting board and well, yes, I grew suspicious. (I had put all the knives away, not to worry, but still.) “Angela,” I called, “What are you doing?”
“I’m just playing…”
The innocence of her reply was suspect. “With what?” I demanded.
“A potato,” she replied.
Oh.
Very well, then.
I guess Laura had her corn cob doll, and my Angela’s got her…spud.
AMDG,
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