Mite hic-cup
I was so frazzled that I repeatedly addressed Oldest mite by Youngest mite’s name. Oldest mite looked at me with that horrible ‘wounded lamb’ look and said in a very small voice, “His name… [name]. Annnd my name… [name], Mummy.”
Feeling like crap, I apologised and hugged him. I explained my brain was still in bed so my skull was empty. He looked at my head for a moment. He then leaned forward until our foreheads were almost touching and said solemnly, “You can borrow my brain today. I need it back for kool (school) tomorrow. Uukay?”
That almost made me forgave all the destruction his Kung-Fu craziness made on this house last few months. Almost. I’m still not happy about having to pay for two broken windows, one broken chair, torn t-shirts, a few broken toys, Anna’s ripped jacket, one broken floor lamp, a cracked light switch cover, a few wall dents, and Will’s chipped tooth.