I am a grumpy old troll today. In fact, I'm surprised Sabrina hasn't called me a grumpy old troll. Mr. Crankypants stopped by for a visit this morning and had so much fun he decided to come back after school.
I'm not sure if Mr. Crankypants was visiting me or Sabrina.
I'm despairing of ever being a good blogger. Only because I am reading a great knitblogger from the beginning (I'm in June 2005) and she is hi-larious. I want to be her.
We read the shortest book that Sabrina owns (digression: she has a counting book that she got from the dentist that is shorter...but there aren't words in it to read) and That. Was. It. No complaints, wow-o, but she's not quite asleep, 20 minutes later, even though all signs pointed to one exhaustified Sabrina.
We had play therapy today. I was a little distraught to find that there was only one adult in the building, the therapist, so when she and I talked, Sabrina was by herself. It wasn't the most comfortable, child-friendly place (hello? play therapy office? can we have a comfortable sofa maybe?), and of course Sabrina doesn't like to be left alone.
And OH the traffic. It took us 45 minutes to get home. The office is 6 minutes from school, school is about 20 minutes from home, but OH rush hour.
I had a professor in college who told us, I swear to all that is holy, that she had worked as a telephone psychic. (This was not all that she told us. She told us about her cat peeing on her bed. And she asked me, in her office, to read and critique a love poem she had written for her boyfriend. It was not a poetry class.) I mention this because I am really falling down on the psychic job. I just can't figure out what "mmm mmm mmm mm mmm" means when she has her toothbrush in her mouth, what "THIS!" is when she is vaguely pointing all the way across the room, or what "mumble mumble like yours" is when she refuses to repeat "mumble mumble" because "you heard me!" Any psychic tips gladly welcomed.
Off to cleanse myself of the grumpies.
28 minutes ago