I - hate - Mondays;
Mondays I - hate!
I'm just a little grumpy,
and plus I'm gonna be late!

That's Ruth at lunch time - more or less a direct quote. I think I tucked the last line into place from something she had said a few minutes before. Poor kids can't even express their sheer grumpiness without getting their words turned into doggerel.

But I told her I was posting it, and she said "Awesome!" as she raced out the door for the afternoon at school. Today she won't have to go to Carlyle after school for band practice (that's "Division Band," made up of students from Stoughton to Redvers and north to Wawota). It was cancelled due to exams. Instead she has a practice with the Pathfinders, of a special, surprise dance number for Robert Burns night (Wednesday at the Legion Hall), and then a bit of time to do any homework and make sure her boots and uniform are ready for Cadets this evening. Most of her Mondays are marathons. I keep urging her to ask her teacher for the Monday assignments in advance, so she can get ahead on the weekend. But I have to admit, if it were me, I'd probably quit something.

You know the stereotype about mothers reminding their children to do their homework, bring home notes from the teacher, take their mittens, and so on and on? With Ruth and me, it's just about reversed. She's always checking ahead to make sure I'll leave room in the schedule for the homework, sign and return the school notes, buy the mittens, and so on. If I were inclined to be smug about my adulthood, that kid would cure me quickly.