Mrs. P has decided to “go back to work” now that her baby is 8 months old. This means that for five-eight hours a week, on Friday’s only, she is a working mother. But more importantly that means that Fridays are freaking fantastic. I can get Bunny ready for school without her constant reminders that he take his vitamins, that he have fruit in his lunch, that he eats breakfast BEFORE he gets dressed and that he put on his sunscreen prior to putting on his shirt and shorts. You see, there is a VERY specific order to everything that happens in that house. But on Friday’s? Oh no. Fridays are glorious. I can get Buddha down for both of his naps without her harping about whether he’s pooped yet or if the fan over his crib is on too high or if I forgot to put on his air purifier. I can feed him his rice cereal without her worrying if it’s getting in his hair. I can play with him outside without her freaking out about the sun or the horrible chemicals in (Water Babies) sunscreen. I can feed Bunny his snack when he gets home from school without her reminding me to mix 50% water into his 100% organic cranberrie juice. We can *gasp* sit on the couch and color with crayons and amazingly not get any on the fabric. We can get out more than five toys at a time and manage to get them put away. We can turn on the radio really loud and dance. But mostly, we can relax and enjoy our day without Mrs. Pinochet on our backs. And when she gets home in a foul mood, I can grin because thank god I wasn’t one of the people having to deal with her all day long. Fridays rock. Tomorrow is Friday.

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