Harry Potter Cheese

My husband has been out of town since Sunday. It has not been easy. I started out all calm and collected, zen, ready to single parent like nobody's business. And I did, for a couple of days. But by last night, it was kicking my butt. The kids can't help it. The three year old can't help that he whines when he's tired, gets mad when he can't wash his hands first because his brother beat him to the sink, or because he wants juice not water. Also, I couldn't get the bathtub drain to work, and he hates showers. I realized this morning that he hasn't bathed in five days. 

My seven year old likes to ask questions. Lots of questions. He can't help it, he's curious, a sign of intelligence, surely. Sometimes driving in the car with him is like being in trapped in an interrogation room with the Kyra Sedgewick character on that show on TNT, the title is escaping me. 

The questions themselves are innocent, often funny, but there are so damn many of them. For example:

"Mom, what's this number: 1-0-0-2-5-7-6? What is it?"

"Ummm, don't know. I'd have to see it written out."

"Can you count that high?"

"Probably."

"So do it."

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"Not while I'm driving."

"Because you have to look at the road?"

"Ummm, uh-huh." 

"Is driving hard or easy?"

"Ummmm...."

"I think it's easy. Have you ever gone to 100?"

"Umm, yeah, sure, I mean probably. It's not safe though."

"Why not? "

At this point, I lose it, you might crash, I tell him, no more questions, please. He might give me a minute or so before he's off and running again. 

We had this interesting exchange the other night while eating leftover manicotti.

"Mom, what kind of cheese is this?"

"Ricotta cheese."

"Harry Potter cheese? What's Harry Potter cheese?"

"I SAID RICOTTA CHEESE!"

Momma tries to be patient. It's hard sometimes. Husband comes back this afternoon. Probably just in the nick of time. I hope he's ready for his duties: bathing and answering lots of questions, while I put my feet up and watch a Top Chef marathon or something.