It’s saturday. Ri lays beside me, her chest rising and falling as she faintly snores. Ya dances up the stair case whooping and gibbering at his toy of the moment, words indistinguishable from my room. Chi sits at the kitchen table guarding the cooling strawberry cupcakes she’s pressed to devour. Rico putses from kitchen to dinning room, occasionally pausing to inventory the cluttered counters and dish filled sink.
I’m supposed to be editing photos – or at least organizing the building number of shoots with closely looming deadlines. I’m not eager to get to “work” and will probably work late into the evening for this procrastination.
The portfolios of the kids ‘ boutique bookings continues to build, though few pictures seem to make public appearances. I’ve long since stopped printing best photos from shoots and cataloging them in albums.
Inside mailbox two right now is another package. It’s hostage until the mail carrier returns on Monday so I can once again complain that that receptacle is eternally jammed.
The day rushed past me. The sun is already moving below the horizon, skies painted pink, purple, and orange amongst blue-grey clouds. I wonder why the time moves so quickly.
Ri discovered chapstick tastes good, sampling it in chunks from the new tube I picked up. Ya is skinned from an unfortunate mommy haircut (he never should have asked to go bald!). He keeps rubbing his scalp, though I suspect it’s because those newly exposed patches of dandruff are the reason. Rico is exploring his neither kid nor adult identity, trying desperately to assert his non existent freedom of choice. And Chi, when not engrossed in Clash of Clans, is counting the minutes to her return to Oma and PopPop’s house.
This is what week’s end looks like these days.