I'm friendly at the park.
"What's your name?" I asked the mom at the neighboring swing.
"Kristi," she said.
small talk small talk. swing swing swing. small talk small talk. swing swing swing. Gussie climbs the slide and is about to jump off --
My mind won't work. Name jumbling ensues. I can't remember which one he is. I know he's mine. I search for his name but all I scream is:
She jumped like a cat and looked, needless to say, confused.
"Oh," I muttered. "I meant ..."
Now, would someone please lock me up on days like that -- when the bags under my eyes are the size of large hams and I confuse my children's names with those of strangers at the park.
On days like that, all 5 of you should join in one accord and for the sake of humanity (and the survival of my children) bring me coffee -- an IV of espresso -- a can of Coke -- a whiff of your English Breakfast tea ... if not for me, do it for the children; do it for KRISTI !!!