But I can't, because my late evening--my work time on Mommy days--started with my kid coming into my room, looking at me with big sad eyes, and saying "Mommy, CoCo's dead!"
He wasn't wrong. I wish he was. Never mind Coco had a pretty sweet, life, for a tiny little rodent that makes it about a year in the wild. Never mind he outlived the curve for any small animal I've had, ever, by like six months. We hit one of the crappy parenting milestones today. My son experienced death for the first time.
And don't get me wrong, Little J is just fine. We had an impromptu burial, and discussed a short respectful break from pet ownership (other than the cats) before we embark on Coco Mark-2. We discussed the fact it's always okay to be sad, just don't purchase real-estate there. Yay healthy coping mechanisms blah blah blah.
I don't know. I don't have anything profound to say. I'm just sad, and I'm spilling it all over here instead of being productive.
Yeah yeah, I know, that's a healthy coping mechanism too.
At least you didn't get eaten by a cat.
If I knew what I was doing Wednesday, or on the Art of Procrastination, I'd put it here. But I don't. I might figure it out shortly before you do. Life's a ride, and I feel like this is going to be one of those bumpy weeks.