It's over. I survived. I just woke up from a nap during which I dreamed the VBS theme music.
I used my mean mommy voice. I threatened time-outs. I threatened standing at the back of the line. I took toys away.
I broke up many fights among exhausted, hungry children.
I cuddled. I encouraged. I sang. I acted silly. We walked in slow motion, walked like robots, walked like birds to keep them occupied as we walked.
It was a pretty good day. But I did get head-butted again. And I had to bodily remove the head-butter from the bouncy house, in a separate incident. All forty-five-ish pounds of him puddled on the ground like a toddler, screaming and whining. I told him to stand up and walk like a big boy or his mommy would be alerted. He stood up for a second and then flopped over, hard, just as I took his hand. Little punk.
They went home. Thank goodness they all went home.
I picked up Charlie and stood in line for teacher appreciation hot dogs with his exhausted body draped over mine, head on my shoulder. I rubbed the spot between his shoulder blades. He wrapped his arms around my neck. We got Wesley. We ate lunch. Charlie said please and thank you and ate nicely with a fork. Wesley ate blueberries off my plate and stared at the lights on the ceiling. When it was time to go Charlie waited patiently in his chair while I threw our plate and cup away.
I know Charlie and Wesley are normal kids and they will drive me crazy on and off for the rest of their lives. But I have never felt luckier that they are mine.