Normally, I'm a jubilant individual on Fridays, that most glorific, beatified day of days. Sitting on the cusp of the weekend, anything is possible from the vantage point of a Friday morning.
This morning I sent my 10 year old son out into the world alone.
He went on a field trip to a big city 3 hours away. The bus will have to maneuver a horrid piece of highway known for excessive speeders and bloody accidents.
We went over safety guidelines exhaustively yesterday, but I know it means nothing to a sheltered 10 year old; what point of reference could he have that would give him an understanding of his mother's worries? I wasn't even going to let him go, what with my neurotic fear of charter bus drivers, not to mention the petrifying idea of him being alone in a strange place, but his newly emerged social butterfly insisted it was vital that he attend. So I let him go.
I told my youngest son, the Bohemian, that we would spend the day together, having some one-on-one time. I'm sure we will have a lovely day together, but its going to be hard to really focus on much of anything until the Professor comes home.
And then, the weekend can start.
Did I tell you I was batsa? Yeah I did. You're looking at a tapdancing monkey on the edge right now.