12 A.M.: Berit wakes due to tummy ache. Trevor and I position ourselves for throwing up, while he convinces her to put her head on the floor and butt in the air and toot, toot, toot. She claims she needs to poop, but does not want to poop on the potty (no surprise here) and finds herself far too taxed to stand upright to finish the job, hence she whines and cries and complains that the couch is too slippery. Since Trevor seems to be laughing on the inside about this, I declare that the two can enjoy themselves with their heads buried in the living room floor and their rears in high salute, and I go to bed.
12:30 a.m.: Berit falls asleep on the floor, no poop having materialized.
7 a.m.: Berit wakes, crying out, "Daddy! I have to poop NOW and I WANT TO POOP ON THE POTTY!" Riiiight. Not only does she not poop on the potty, she doesn't poop anywhere. She declines food all day and, since she has school tomorrow and I don't want her to spend the entire 2 1/2 hours there convincing a kind room mother she's going to poop on the potty ANY MINUTE, I CAN FEEL IT COMING OUT!, I spent my entire day today bribing, threatening and coercing her to poop. Which did not work.
12 p.m.: Dance class. 45 minutes of bliss for Berit, 45 minutes of torture and restraint for Marta, who wants desperately to join the Big Girls' dance class. I let her play in the drinking fountain in the hall to distract her.
1-5 p.m.: General play during which Marta climbs, then jumps off, everything and neither girl eats anything close to an entire meal. Marta has a runny nose, caused by: a) Berit's foray into preschool, b) the shopping cart "car" she insisted on riding in at Glen's yesterday that I couldn't get spotless with my baby wipes, or c) the trip to the doctor's office Monday, when I took her to be sure her two-week-long hoarseness wasn't anything serious (it wasn't), and where she may have glanced at a toy for a prolonged enough period so the germs on it leapt off and crawled through her adorable nose into her immune system.
5:30 p.m.: I load two tired girls into the car so I can pick up a double order of guacamole from Jose's to eat for dinner, since I'm dining solo tonight. Berit falls asleep in the car, hallelujah Mother George.
Present: Marta screams in her bed. I eat the universe's best guacamole and write blog.
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