Missed Lesson

We wimped out on swim lessons last night. All three children are sniffling and coughing from the damp chill which has settled over the southern plains. Hubs and I just couldn't bring ourselves to pack them up for the lessons. The lessons are being held under an inflatable bubble set over a local outdoor pool. The temps within are warmer than outside, but still more chill than I am comfortable swimming in. The children donae seem as bothered by the chill as our senior bones are, but children are notorious for ignoring discomfort into full-blown crisis. In this particular instance, the older siblings were in agreement with our assessment that the lessons werenae worth the health risk. Plying home remedies for coughs and congestion sounded far more appealing to them. Done and doner. . .

ES has been without his PS4 since September. The deal we implemented before the funeral was that he needs 5 purples (best behavior) in a row before he gets to hold a controller in his hands. Since e-toys were, quite literally, the only active bonding he had with his mother, I was sorely tempted to lower that bar after the double funeral. Hubs disagreed and I didnae argue. My last text exchange with Mom was, "We don't take away play time." I answered, "We did not take away play time. Only the Play Station. Play time has expanded to creative outdoor activity and exercise." He is still allowed to use the school's educational games on the internet, but not the Play Station. Their trend to on-line game requirements gives me the heebeegeebees to boot. I don't even want to guess what is hididng behind the avatars on those sites. In my mind, it might be safer to surf the porn sites. Don't want either crowd on my laptop.

Our CPS caseworkers are thrilled with our stance on the video game system. The rampant e-toy addiction is inching steadily up their monitor scale, especially with the children of morbidly obese parents. My daughter-in-law and family are far from the only welfare parents in the U.S. whose only developed muscle set is in their thumbs.

Sorting. . . The greatest certainty is that Hubs and I are Old World thrilled to see Big Bro channeling his angry confusion into bicycling, etc., more than achieving the next level in virtual weaponry, murder and mayhem. He is quite proud of the new muscle tone in his legs. Me too. Dare I hope that when he gets his play station back, it will be a smaller part of his life rather than the whole of his life? Just hoping. . .

For now, I am *simply* grateful for another peaceful bedtime last night and the restful tones simmering through the house this moring. The clearance for the sisters to start daycare next Tuesday has helped Hubs and I relax a bit more under this shocking series of unfortunate events. Senior care measures needed. We are physically and emotionally exhausted. Where did we leave that proverbial oxegyn mask?