. . . you schlep three small children, one box violin, one practice bow, one large chart, one backpack full of snacks and potty emergency necessaries, and yourself 1/2 hour across town to "group lessons". . . only to arrive and find that the only available parking is near the drug-dealer's playground . . . only to dodge the drug dealers and herd your brood into the school . . . only to find out that group lessons were canceled . . . and the teacher did *not* call you?
I do.
We salvaged the afternoon, however, with a trip to the lovely park near Joel's store, followed by dinner with Daddy during his lunch break. Corrie especially enjoyed the chance to chat up every mother or father or innocent bystander trying to enjoy the park. She even discussed her thumb sucking habit with one mommy. As that same mommy said to me later, "She's a talker!" Yes, oh yes, she is. But the girl had to endure the loss of her beloved group lesson this week, and so I suppose she's entitled to some consolation conversations.
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