It’s still August, I realized as the morning flew by.

The back to school rush is set to begin next week,

and I know the kids are ready

Because of their complete inability to hear

when asked nicely to do anything.

Strangley,

when asked loudly for the third time

with a thread of irritation

colouring the previously sweet words

they seem to have no issues following directions.

My husband woke me up,

convinced that he was already dead

as he suffered through another virus

likely brought home by our small plague vectors.

I was also sick,

but with the mom flu instead of the man flu.

He looked so pathetic that I left him to fend for himself

as I took the kids to daycare and headed off

to my day of work.

Luckily, only quiet, speechless paperwork

met my ears

as I caught up on what seemed to be

a solid year’s worth of work.

Headway was made,

and before I knew it,

it was time to head back to get the kids.

Not in any frame of mind to cook,

I grabbed takeout and allowed a movie night

and food in front of the tv.

I was, after all, sick,

although the children didn’t seem to notice the hoarseness to my voice as I told them it was time for bed.

Finally, I whispered that I was going to bed

and if they wanted a goodnight tuck in,

they had to be in bed before me.

To my surprise, it worked,

and we all headed off to slumber.

Tomorrow is another day closer to school

and routine,

and I’m looking forward to it.

I know I do best with a schedule,

and the children have now reached the part of summer where they are bored

but don’t know that they are bored.

One more week,

then I shake my head

and send up a prayer that the teachers are ready.

The children are coming,

and they are contagious.