The Morning After...

Early (and cut-short) naps and partying hard at a 4 year old's birthday made for an incredibly tuckered out duo last night. I didn't hear from either child until 8:15 this morning. The time crunch to get everyone dressed, fed, and to school by 9am didn't really set in until 8:50, when we were still in the kitchen, chugging coffee, packing a lunch, shoving on shoes, and choking down some cereal.

But we made it by 9:15. And I didn't speed (because Heath will give me a ticket, if I do). With a rainy start to the day, the preschoolers were all in the classroom instead of their usual playground spot. The boys of the class, who were also birthday bash participants, all had matching dinosaur tattoos on their forearms. Heath immediately joined them in the circle for some train playing. Quietly engaged in track building and locomotive attaching, they seemed to have a "what happened at the birthday party, stays at the birthday party" air about them.

When I picked Heath up later that morning, they'd been on a very wet playground. He was happily covered in mud. I asked him if he had a good morning. He initially answered, yes. When I dug for additional information, all I could get him to say was, He didn't pull the string and he was sad.

I'm guessing there is quite a bit more to that story.