Okay, so far my three work-week stint as a single parent has included a late diagnosis of Sam's 2nd ever asthma attack, a 4-hour vigil beside "the bucket" while he vomited uncontrollably, and more freakin' snow shovelling than I care to do in three winters. In addition, I've made just one meal that comes close to resembling a proper dinner, the laundry is piling up, the garbage & recycling didn't go out this week, the dog hasn't seen the end of the driveway nevermind been walked (mind you, the dog isn't complaining - see "snow" above). I'm surprised I haven't been fired, I'm nervous that I haven't done my Christmas shopping or cards, I'm flabbergasted that we're running low on groceries (see "proper dinner" above), I'm waiting for the odd-shaped yellow light illuminated on the Jetta's dashboard to start blinking red, and I have a vague sense that cheques may be bouncing. In short, I'm not exactly holding down the fort. The fort is in serious shambles. 
And yet, Sam is (when not wheezing and vomiting) the happiest of little boys. When he was feeling his ol' self this afternoon, he asked if I wanted to take a break from my work to come dance to the music that his new race car plays. We rocked it out in the family room. That part, I'm doing right. And that's all that really matters. So Fort Hudson is snowed under and filling with refuse. We're dancing, we're singling carols, we're reading Captain Jack Sparrow stories. The rest of it can slide a bit till Daddy is back.
Well, maybe not the shovelling...
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