My son was in a funky funk and wasn’t interested in any of the dinner options I offered tonight. I could tell he needed to eat, and mostly he needed to talk, but it’s not easy to draw him out. So I grabbed the tortillas and cheese and asked him to come talk to me while I made quesadillas for my daughter and myself. The kids sat at the counter and I casually asked him if he wanted just cheese on his quesadilla. He said yes, and then he asked me if I was trying to trick him. I said of course. He ate. He talked. He laughed and smiled. Mission accomplished.
I’m feeling pretty tired today after yesterday’s race and long drive home, but I did manage to get my Monday chest workout in with Coach, which charged me up as I recapped the weekend for him and entertained him with my sarcastic wit – a result of my elevated sense of self-worth after finishing in the top 6.7% of my age group at the Nike Women Half Marathon. I’m getting too big for my britches. It’s his fault.
He caught me wringing my hands and fidgeting – an outward sign of my inward anxiousness about my next race. I’m getting excited and very nervous. Plus, I’m wound up like a drum. That’s his fault, too.
I have more to say, but I feel sleep coming swiftly, and I have one more thing to do before I drift off…