I need more sleep.
I've been grumpy and mean, short tempered and short fused.
Ruth and I had plans to begin our Christmas cookie baking extravaganza today because, as Ruth pointed out this morning, today is the very first day of December. Things didn't really work out the way either of us planned. She wasn't on her A game and I managed to pick apart every teeny tiny mistake and misdecision she made.
Then we were four minutes late for gymnastics.
I (quite less than graciously) informed her she would NOT be making any cookies with me this evening.
She came home from gymnastics.
She finished her math homework.
She cleaned her room.
She took a five minute -speed- bath.
She ate leftover pancakes and microwave bacon for dinner.
She brushed her teeth.
She went to bed.
A couple of hours later I thought I should make sure she had a snack in her backpack for tomorrow and that's when I found this...
(sigh a huge, guilt-ridden sigh)
She was so excited about our Christmas custom she wrote about it. And it's not just ANY custom, oh noooooo! It's her favorite custom.
What in the world is wrong with me?
I believe I was eaten alive by my own stupid cookies.
Tomorrow, Ruth. Tomorrow, I promise you... we will bake and you can frost every single one of them.
I love you.
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