This is not a typical Saturday

It should've been a good day. There was nothing else on the Calendar, nothing else in the way of absolutely scheduled events, the kind of thing that happens in the middle of the afternoon, which effectively kills of the entire day because just when you get into the rhythm of the particular thing you're doing (and enjoying), that thing you've been wanting to find the time to do for many, many, many months, you have to stop and put it all away and shower and dress and do something completely different, knowing that you will not be getting back to that activity again for another few months.

Oh, it might've been a good day.

But then James ate all the bacon. Mary had asked for it, we'd cooked it up, and then James and Adam ate up all the bacon because their sisters had run upstairs to get dressed (and get distracted by their dolls), and in the meantime, the boys ate all the bacon by themselves. Oh, they claimed that they didn't know anyone else wanted any, but we knew better. They know that Mary asks for bacon practically every morning -- it's her current favorite breakfast food. They knew they had done wrong, but James has a devilish streak in him and Adam just doesn't think sometimes (as was evidenced again later in the day). I was so totally mad.

We puttered around the house in the mid-morning, after some chores had been done, the kids doing artwork and Dad doing work on the basement and Cheryl doing her own thing; and then it was time to run off to the Musem to see the Special Exhibit which Cheryl had been wanting to see since the kids had a day off on Wednesday (but we discovered that Saturday was a better day to go because there was a kid's hands-on event on Saturday), so after lunch we got the kids ready and sent them into the garage to get in the car and then we were in the kitchen finalizing the Packing of Snacks, when --

Screaming. Lots of screaming. Cheryl ran out to the car to see what was going on. Deborah was screaming. James was tattling. Adam was pale. Cheryl was livid. Hoo-boy, there goes the afternoon.

So there were enough mistakes all around for everyone. The girls weren't sitting in their seats with their seatblets on, as they had been told to do. Deborah was taunting her brother. Adam (who is not known for temper control) poked her with a mechanical pencil.

In the eye.

Score!

All the kids came back out of the car. Marched out, as it were. To their rooms. Deb lay on her bed, and Mom and Dad checked the eye. Ooh, ick. Red. Pencil mark in the upper right quadrant of the cornea. Dark. Bloody. Circular.

You can bet that Adam got a good look at his handiwork.

We taped a gauze patch over the eye, and Dad rushed her over to the Clinic while Mom pondered the probability that the others would live to see another day.

At the clinic, the wait was minimal, and the doc said it was a scratch that would heal overnight, but we had to get some antibiotic drops from the pharmacy to keep it from getting infected. So we stopped by Walgreens. And, since she was feeling better by then, we stopped by Lowes as well, to get some things that Dad was needing. Hey, I'll take my shopping excuses when I can get them.

Back home, it was rest time for Deb, which lasted all of fifteen minutes or so. She was feeling fine -- like her sister, she has a rather high tolerance for pain -- and by late in the afternoon, we were all over at the school playground trying to work off the excess energy so obviously in abundance. After making chalk drawings on the driveway and running around the backyard. Deb was wearing sunglasses to avoid getting the wind in her eyes (and there was quite a bit of wind).

Once home again, it was dinner time, and we had to fight the Good Fight again. Man, that is so old. Somedays I wish -- but never mind. From Adam we had no complaints. From the others, it was World War 3. Tempers flared, threats were made, but to no avail. Another fine dinner, unappreciated by the groundlings. Well, if they can't appreciate it, they can just starve. Off to the showers for the lot of 'em!

After showers, it was Reading Time. Mom entertained them with another rousing chapter of Harry Potter. Then it was Prayer Time and Sleep Time and then Dad Get's Back to His Work on the Basement Time (after a quick trip to Radio Shack for some desparately-needed PC cables).

Another Saturday like this and I'm going to retire to the Hermit Hut.