We're in our second week back to school, and the excitement has worn off a bit. The girls arrive home every afternoon tired and cranky and hostile towards each other. Yesterday afternoon was particularly rough, so I decided to order pizza as a treat, which no one ended up eating, but that's a gripe for a different time.
At 5:30, the girls were arguing with each other over the rules of a board game and Campbell was tearing around the house, singing at the top of his lungs. I had just stripped Elizabeth of her sweet potato-covered clothes and diaper and was about to pop her in the kitchen sink for a bath when the pizza guy knocked on the door.
I opened the door with a naked, food-covered baby on my hip, two fighting girls in the background, and an almost-three year-old who was trying to make a break for freedom. The pizza guy sized up the scene and asked, "So, how's it going?"
I didn't know whether to laugh or sock him a good one. I settled on giving a fake smile and saying, "Just spectacularly." He laughed and handed over the pizzas before running for cover.