Two weeks into this Coronavirus stuff, and I’m finally taking a day to catch up on all my emails. I found a blog I nearly forgot about, downloaded bank statements, and listened to voicemail my kids left me while I was working.
A lot of folks have extra time on their hands right now, and I’m both sad and glad for us all. Extra time is a gift. Too much extra time, not so much. Double-edged sword.
My favorite part of this staying home business is that the kids and I have a new evening routine. “It’s art time, Mom!” rings out shortly before it’s time for bed. We gather in the classroom and color, work on latch hook rug, or whatever art project we’ve got going on. It turns out, it’s my kids’ favorite too. I had to work late yesterday, and I got a phone call:
Kid: “Mom, you’re missing art time!”
Me: “I’m sorry kiddo. Maybe we can do art time in the morning?”
Kid: “No, we’ll wait for you. Art time can’t actually start until you get here.”
Stalling bedtime? Maybe. Do I care? Not even a little bit.