Priorities

I have approximately one hour, and I'm going to spend it with my laptop, briefly, and then a book, and possibly a coffee and a homemade cookie. I am not going to tidy up, clean the kitchen, put on a load of washing, make pumpkin bread, or start making Christmas lists. Doing any of those things might make me feel efficient and that I have accomplished something useful, but I'd still harbour a boatload (harbour, boats, gettit?) of residual resentment at not having got to just sit down and do nothing.

So instead, I'll go back to my original mantra of doing nothing with this time that I could do when the kid(s) are at home. I can always put on the washing after Mabel gets back, and whip up a loaf of pumpkin bread while she's napping.

In the car this morning, Mabel and I had an interesting discussion:

Mabel: Mummy, you know, I think now I can go to the top of the big climbing frame in the playground, because I'm older.
Me: Really? Maybe so. You know, I think now you can wear underpants and use the toilet, because you're older.
Mabel: No, I'm not going to do that.
Me: Well, I think after Christmas you'll start wearing underpants.
Mabel: Will I be older after Christmas?
Me: Oh yes, definitely.
Mabel: Well, that would be okay.
[...]
Mabel: Why are you laughing? I don't want you to laugh at me.
Me: I love you, that's why I'm laughing.
Mabel, grumpy: Well, I love you, and I don't laugh at you.

Touché.