A Regular Tuesday Evening

Won't anyone listen to my story?

Mary is doing her best to read to the children at this evening.

They appear to be cooperating, but for some reason she is saying, “I don’t think there is any use of me reading anymore.

I might as well go to bed and leave you all here doing whatever you are doing.”

I can listen and play electronic games at the same time.

I don’t know which is true: they are listening and doing other things at the same time.

Or the alternate interpretation is, she is right and no one is listening and she might as well go to bed.

Xavier has done his piano practising and he is listening on the couch to her, cuddling the dog and doing something with his electronics.

Yay!  I own the wheel chair and the balloon!
Note the string in my hand and the smile on my face!

Rhiannon is happily playing on the wheelchair, pretending that it is she who has the fractured femur and not Naomi.

She has Naomi’s balloon horse in her hand.

Naomi just doesn’t feel well, no matter how much her mother tries to interest her in the book.

Splayed treasures / Momentary pleasures

This is the third day of not being able to get around, and she has now come to terms with the idea that she is going to be bored for quite a few days in a row.

Even having me splay strawberries and give them to her, sprinkled with sugar on top, is only a stop-gap measure to happiness – a pleasure that doesn’t last long.

Arta