Too Tired for Tequila

It is an unfortunate reality that the times I feel most in need of the temporary relaxation afforded by an alcoholic drink are the times when I'm too tired to bother.

All three children have had a cold this past week. The older two have been their usual insane cyclone selves (how do children maintain that level of activity even when ill? I will never understand this) with the additional joy of the sick-whines, and Jack has been awake. All the time. Every two hours at night for a few nights now. I can't begrudge him the comfort of my presence at night, but it's making me into a zombie.

So I did not, as is my habit, celebrate Cinco de Mayo yesterday with a margarita. Bummer. All I managed were some taco meat and guacamole. And I managed to eat it without face-planting into my dinner. Party on.

And speaking of acting drunk . . .

I sent Cubby upstairs this morning at 7:10 to get dressed. Forty minutes later, he was standing in the living room in his socks and underwear, holding a pair of pants that were clearly too big for him. I told him to take them back upstairs and get a pair that fit.

So of course, he put the pants over his head and groped his way up the stairs in his underwear and socks. Because five-year-olds are perpetually drunk, even without alcohol.

He came back down a minute later holding properly sized pants, and with the overly large pants still on his head. Ten minutes after that, he was finally dressed. And the pants were off his head.

Who needs liquor? I have kids.