I didn’t always hate Tuesday. It was the library story hour that killed it. The library story hour has become my archnemesis.
It starts at 10:15. The first week, we showed up at 10:10 and the room was packed. No WAY was I going to be able to sneak a double stroller in there, so I tried to get Raisin to sit and listen by herself. Nothing doing, which is understandable. Unfortunately for me, Apple and Orange decided to commence simultaneous crying, so we grabbed a random pile of books and headed home. (We ended up with some story about the Cowboys winning the Superbowl. The hell?)
The second week, we left home at 10:15. I knew story hour was a no-go, so we just played and got some books, and I was OK. But I was DETERMINED that we would, at some point, attend a story hour.
Yesterday we got there right on time. No story hours until December. Jerks. Don’t they have ANY idea how long it takes me to get out of the damn house? Would it have been wrong to use bodily force to get the librarian to read Raisin a story? If so, I in no way considered that.
Oh, and about Wednesdays? I’ll leave more of that story to your imagination. It involves an episode of Dora, a playgroup session, and a toddler who couldn’t decide between the two.
If Thursday comes looking for me, tell her I crossed the date line already.