O' Day, why do you proceed on such dragging feet as if encased in concrete?
Is some mafia godfather about to send you to the depths of a great water ne'er to be seen again?
O' Day, why can you not be more like your brother (sister maybe?) Yesterday, who flew on soft feathered wings 'til before I knew it the children's beds beckoned them and the pillows yearned for the softness of their baby-fine hair.
Why, O' Day, is it only 6 o'clock when last I looked it was 5:38 and the time before that 4:40 and also 4:30 when the kids didn't really get naps and I really, truly feel as though it must be at least 8?
And the children tucked sweetly in and dreams replacing play.
O' Day, I pray that your sibling Tomorrow can play a little nicer and give me time o' plenty when we have to get ready to leave and yet also quicken it's pace when my energy wanes.
Please.
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