So it goes like this:
Cinder: Mooooom! I’m out of pajamas! And pants! And socks! And…
Jane: Cindeeeer! The washing machine is, I believe, empty and fully functional. Do a load, or go scavenge in your dirty clothes pile! I’m writing!
Cinder: I’ve already worn everything twice… Will you show me how you do the laundry again?
Jane: As soon as I… just ask Flora to show you.
Cinder: Flora knows how to do laundry?
Jane: She ran out of underwear on Sunday.
Interlude for the aspiring writers in the crowd: Once or twice a week, I get an email from a “I want to be a freelance writer!” asking me if I have any advice to impart. It boils down to this: Pitch. Query. Write. And when you get assignments, MEET YOUR DEADLINES (and if you break them, you’d better have a really good excuse, like… FLOOD! And even then, your editors will say, “So… if you get power back on Thursday, does that mean you might be able to file on Friday?”). MEET YOUR DEADLINES. And did I mention… MEET YOUR DEADLINES.
And then it goes like this:
Flora: Mooooom! What’s wrong with our sink?
Jane: Keee-rist, did Ender clog the drain with Lego again?
Flora: No, come look.
Jane: Sweetie, I really need to finish…
Cinder: Gah, Mom, you need to come see this.
Jane: This better be… Kee-rist. What the hell is that?
Flora: I think it’s a slime mold.
Jane: Is that moving?
Cinder: Sometimes, slime molds move.
Jane: That is not a slime mold. I doused the entire bathroom in cleaners and alcohol after we had the plague. I’ve only been neglecting the house for two weeks. Not enough time for a slime mold to..
Flora: Oh-my-god, it totally moved.
How you know we’re all a little whack:
Cinder: Should we take a picture?
Flora: Can I keep it for my museum?
Jane: I think if we leave it until Daddy gets home, he’ll deal with it.*
Interlude for the aspiring writers in the crowd: MEET YOUR DEADLINES. Deal with the slime mold later–or delegate.
PS I’m not reading anything not directly related to my billable work right now, my apologies to the blogosphere. Um, well, except for this. Have you read Jessica Olien’s Salon piece, Inside the Box: people don’t actually like creativity. Brilliant. Painfully true.
*He did. Cause he’s the best Daddy-husband-to-writer ever. And, if you’re wondering: it was just a blob of shampoo-toothpaste mixture, carefully sculpted by the Ender. Of course. Obvious, you’d think. But we sort of liked going with the whole moving slime mold thing…