I put Audrey down for her nap today, then came out to the kitchen to discover Owen standing on a step stool gazing at the kitchen counter. That’s never a good sign, but I didn’t spot anything out of place, and as he wasn’t actually ON the counter, I just shooed him back to his quiet time activity and sat down with my cup of tea. My warm-but-not-too-hot, super-honeyed, slow-brewed tea, which I had boiled water for an hour ago so it would be ready at this precise moment.

This morning, before I brewed my tea, before quiet time, Abigail and Owen spent a while painting. We broke out all the paint supplies: brushes, paint, and sponges cut into interesting shapes. Being the conscientious housekeeper that I am (what? Stop laughing. Pick yourself up off the floor and keep reading), I rinsed all the painting tools right away and left them on the counter to dry.

But! Back to the tea. I picked up my mug and put it to my lips, only to discover… come on, you must have guessed by now… yes, that’s right, my mug was now filled with six discolored sponges, one crammed in after the other.

Is it still Monday around here or something? Because paint sponges floating in my caffeinated beverage feels like Monday to me. Oh well. Goodbye, tea. Goodbye, expectation of being revived during quiet time. I’ll miss you.