Children totally fried from four hours of running around in the sunshine at the Providence party. Whit sleeps for 45 minutes on the way home and then cries for 30 upon getting home. I finally get ravioli into both of them (under duress and Curious George they acquiesced and ate) and went upstairs to run the tub.
I guess I ran it slightly too hot.
Whit puts his toe in and screams, as though he’s been scalded alive.
“Mummy! You do everything wrong!!!”
Fantastic. Is it next week yet?