It was just what the doctor ordered: rest, rest and more rest.
With a bit of running (with a training group, for The Boy, and on the stairmaster from he&% for hill training, for me), grocery shopping, laundry and church thrown in. But otherwise, rest, rest, rest. Really.
We were home long enough to catch up on Netflix movies and laptime with kitties (though I suppose there’s never enough of that). We cooked breakfast, dinner and sweets. It was awesome.
On a side note, a long-held theory of mine proved to be true. I’ve always said that having furbabies is like having 2-year-olds that will never grow up. The Boy and I filled in as summer termporary workers in the childrens’ ministry. He was a “floor supervisor” for the older kids and I helped teach a combined class of 2- and 3-year-olds.
After spending an hour and a half with twelve 2- and 3-year-olds, I can definitively say that the furbabies are exactly like them.
- They don’t like to share.
- They push each other down and start fights.
- They want a snack now, now, NOW!!
- They have a hard time sitting still and listening.
- They’re capable of understanding you when you say something they want to hear. Otherwise you might as well be babbling in a foreign tongue.
- They resist naptime.
Like I said: exactly the same.