Some days are great. Some days, Henry and I get along splendidly, playing together and snuggling and generally enjoying each other's company. Those are the days when I don't have deadlines, when the house is clean, and when everyone is well-rested.
Today is not one of those days.
We're all tired. Justin has been sick for weeks. My work load exploded yesterday. The house is a disaster. We have company coming for five days. And we're in the middle of potty training.
Henry woke me with a smack to the face and an attempt to remove my watch from my arm without unclasping it. He peed through three pairs of long pants in a row (he only has accidents at home, not at school or at other people's houses. I'm pretty sure it's me and his desire to be the boss. He's a terrible boss. He can't even remove his own pants) and alternated laughing and wailing during the few hours I was with him.
I was not sad to be chained to my desk.
These days, these very bad days when the rain is falling and the air is thick with the smell of mud and desperation, I hate these days.
Tomorrow. Not one of those days.